


Blurred Lines

by Swifty



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Amnesia, Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Chris is an asshole, Consent Issues, Dark, Depersonalization, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dissociative Amnesia, Domestic Violence, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Grimdark, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Trust, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mood Swings, Non-Consensual, Panic Attacks, Partner Betrayal, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rehabilitation, Sexual Assault, Sexual Violence, Slight OOC, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicidal Thoughts, Tension, Trauma, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, genophobia, ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 131,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifty/pseuds/Swifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We accept the love we think we deserve." - Stephen Chbosky<br/> <br/>Eddie Guerrero and Chris Benoit have been best friends for many years, both developing feelings for each other. A relationship finally blossoms, but toxic seeds are planted and soon they will grow and wrap around them, choking the love out.</p><p> </p><p> ****</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Author's Note - <br/>Please pay attention to the tags. There will be both graphic and non-graphic scenes of rape and abuse, including flashbacks. If those make you uncomfortable or if they’re triggering for you, please do not read this story. </p><p> </p><p>*****</p><p>Disclaimers inside!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heated Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, Chris is the controlling, dominant partner who have issues, which may or may not get resolved as the fic progresses. He's OOC in this story, if that bothers you then feel free to not read any further :) 
> 
>  
> 
> At this time, I would like to thank my best friends Ben, Brittany, Dylan, and Jade for helping me write this story :)
> 
> [[ Disclaimer -- This is a work of fiction. Although it uses the names of several real people and some of the circumstances of their lives and careers, the story is entirely from the author’s imagination and has no basis in fact. Nothing in this story should be taken as representing actual events, attitudes, quotations, relationships or actions of any person living or dead. ]]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are good times and bad times in every relationship, platonic or romantic.

* * *

* * *

 

 

Eddie glanced at Chris, watching the Canadian packed up the clothes. They had to leave the hotel before 2:30, otherwise they will miss their flight. It was already 2:15. His face reddened slightly when Benoit bent down. Damn his obsession with asses. He didn't know why he felt this way towards Chris. He was 35 for pete's sake. Men his age don't have a crush. But he couldn't deny the truth, not after the past several months. He couldn't deny the fact that he was falling for his best friend.

 

He tried to remember just when it was when he started feeling like this. It was probably that one of the matches they've had a week ago or so. He never felt uneasy when he was in the ring with Chris. They knew each other well. Twelve years of rooming and wrestling together did that to a person.

 

"You okay?"

 

The soft question made him jump. "Ah, sí. I'm fine. Just thinking," he murmured, smiling at the Canadian.

 

Benoit studied the younger wrestler, sensing there was more than what the latino was telling him. "What is it?" he persisted.

 

"Um. It's just. Uh.." Eddie stammered, stumbling over his words.

 

Chris' face etched with worry. He never saw this nervous, fumbling side of his friend before. "What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing. It's estupido. Just forget about it," Eddie muttered, turning around, planning to leave and hang around outside the hotel. Hopefully the fresh air will clear his head.

 

Benoit glared and wrapped his arms around the slim waist, pulling the SmackDown wrestler back. "Hey!"

 

"Let me go!"

 

"Not till you tell me what's bugging you."

 

"Kiss ... my ... ass!" Eddie snapped out the words, straining from the solid grip Chris had on him. Then he was jerked backwards again and crashed into Benoit, the both of them falling to the ground.

 

After several minutes of fighting, Chris had Eddie pinned to the floor. "Gotcha," he panted.

 

Eddie buried his face on the carpet. "You're not making this any easier, bastardo,” he mumbled.

 

Benoit ignored the muffled comment. "Now will you tell me what's wrong? Don't lie your way out of this, be clear," he growled. His friend had the uncanny habit of omitting details whenever he got like this.

 

Eddie sighed. There was no escaping from this. "I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship."

 

"Spit it out," Chris grumbled.

 

"I think you're hot as hell and we should have sex. That clear enough for you? Feliz ahora?"

 

Benoit gaped and then closed his mouth, blinking. He climbed off of his friend. "Wow, that's, um.."

 

Eddie sat up, blushing. He glanced at the RAW wrestler. The other man seemed to be shell-shocked. He bit on his lips, suddenly wanting to take back his words.

 

"I -" Chris started to say when the latino interrupted him.

 

"Geez. You should have seen the look on your face! You're so gullible. It was a joke, ese. I can't believe you fell for it," Eddie laughed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

 

"Huh?" Chris flustered, becoming upset.

 

"That was funny. I really should quit my job as a wrestler and become an actor. It's not so easy, papi. Having so many talents can be a pain," Eddie drawled carelessly, then the collar of his shirt was suddenly grabbed.

 

"Goddammit, Eddie!" Benoit cursed, "Are you honestly kidding or is there something else going on here?! I don't even know what to -" his snarl was cut off as Eddie's lips suddenly covered his own. He stilled briefly before pushing back, plowing into his friend's mouth, his hand curving around the other man's ass. He reluctantly broke off, catching his breath and appreciating the flushed face beneath him. "You really want this?" he murmured, slipping his other hand inside the pants.

 

Eddie smirked. "More than you think," he replied lazily. "I just like teasing you," he brushed his fingers over the Canadian's groin, earning a twitch.

 

"You're an ass," Chris growled, leaning in and pushing the other man's shirt up.

 

"Takes one to know one. How can I resist with a face like yours?" Eddie quipped, snickering.

 

"You know, your sarcasm can be really annoying," Benoit muttered, focusing on the jeans, unbuckling the belt and tugging the pants down.

 

Eddie wrapped his legs around his friend's waist. "And you love it. Face it, ese, you wouldn't be able to go on without me," he grinned crookedly, heart pounding in his chest since this was the last thing he expected Chris to do. He could see the bigger man getting mad and slapping him, but not this.

 

"So cocky too. I wonder how long you can keep it up?" Benoit murmured, smirking as he took hold of the smaller man's flesh.

 

"Chris!" Eddie cried out, biting on his shirt as the Canadian pumped him. Pleasure coursed through his veins and he couldn't really focus on anything else other than what was going on between his legs.

 

Chris almost laughed at the writhing and tight whimpers of bliss. His free hand went up to brush a few sweaty strands of hair off of the forehead before going back down to circle around the entrance.

 

Eddie hissed a little when he felt a digit breaching him, never having done this before, but the pain was quickly replaced with pure ecstasy.

 

Benoit sped up his stroking and carefully pushed his finger up against the prostate, getting a loud moan in response. He chuckled and nibbled on his friend's ear. "Shh, don't want the hotel staff coming in and interrupting us now, do you?" he whispered.

 

Eddie's hips buckled at another stroke. He could feel his climax building up inside of him. He mewled and grabbed Chris's shoulders. "Oh God. _Oh dios_ ," he panted, his voice becoming high pitched.

 

Sensing the approaching peak, Benoit kissed the younger man, muffling the cry. He rode out the orgasm, gently wiping the cum off of the member. He planted a soft peck on his friend's forehead. "So I take it that you enjoyed this?"

 

Eddie's only response was a tired laugh.

 

"Still want to be with me? I can be frisky so I might wear you out."

 

"Now, aren't you the one being cocky?" Eddie snorted, moving forward and biting playfully on Benoit's lips. “I thought it was supposed to be us Latinos who are more passionate.”

 

Chris moaned quietly and grind against the other wrestler.

 

Eddie grinned and palmed the front of Benoit's trouser, trying to be teasing. Surprise crashed into him when Chris yanked his hand away.

 

"Don't touch me."

 

Eddie blinked, feeling rejected at the sharp words as if Benoit thought he was some bothersome fly.

 

It wasn't long until Chris reached his climax, coming in his pants. He sighed, sitting back on his knees.

 

Eddie fidgeted, growing uncomfortable. "Can you move your culo gordo so I can put my jeans back on?" he muttered.

 

Chris glanced at his friend, confused at the hurt expression. "Yeah, sure. Is something wrong?"

 

Eddie tugged his jeans up, ignoring the dry spurts of cum on him, and pulled his shirt down. He rubbed his arm absently, suddenly feeling very cold. "Why didn't you want me to touch you?"

 

Benoit rolled his eyes at the timid question. He had thought it was something serious that his co-worker was worried about. "Really? This is about your insecurity?" he scoffed.

 

Eddie flinched, not meeting the blue eyes. "I just thought that ..." his mumbling died off when a finger was pressed against his lips.

 

Chris's face softened a bit. "I don't mean to sound like a jerk. It's just that I don't like being touched down there by other people. That's all. Don't worry, it has nothing to do with you," he shushed.

 

Eddie frowned faintly, that didn't make any sense, but he didn't press the issue, sensing the impatience.

 

Benoit smiled cheerfully. "I'm sorry if I upset you," he sighed, looking apologetic.

 

Eddie shook his head, relieved that the coldness was gone. "No, you're fine, papi."

 

"I do want to know something, though," Chris murmured, taking hold of his friend's wrist, "Do you really want to be in a relationship with me or are you just looking for an easy fuck?"

 

Eddie winced when the grip on his wrist tightened. "I want a relationship. Geez, holmes. I'm not some puta," he spat crossly.

 

"Just making sure. I couldn't tell from the way you were acting earlier. You were like a tramp back there," Chris laughed, though in the back of his mind he was suspicious. Eddie had cheated on his ex-wife with Joanie a few years ago so Chris wasn’t sure just how loyal the man would be.

 

Eddie shied away, feeling stung. "I wasn't -" he started to protest but then a hand clapped his back.

 

"Lighten up! It was just a joke," Chris exclaimed, making a 'tutting' noise in the back of his throat. His best friend was taking this far too personally.

 

"There's a difference between joking around and being mean, holmes," Eddie muttered.

 

Benoit's face hardened. "Is that so? If you can't take a little teasing in a relationship, then leave now," he snapped, pointing towards the door. 

 

Eddie shook his head quickly, distressed. "No, no. It's not that, I just -"

 

"Leave or I'll throw you out."

 

"Chris, please! I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry," Eddie begged, taking Chris' arm. His chest tightened in panic at his stupidity. He seemed to have the uncanny ability of sticking his foot in his mouth.

 

Benoit hesitated. "Do you really love me?"

 

"I do. Te amo, very much," Eddie replied, hugging the Canadian, praying that somehow clinging would convince Benoit not to go away.

 

Chris smiled and hugged his friend back. "Then you'll listen to me without smarting off, right?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Good. That's a good boy," Chris purred, pecking the other man lightly on the cheek. "I don't mind giving this a try, but I'm not going to do everything, okay?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Maybe if I'm feeling in the mood later, we can have fun. This is your first time with a man, isn't it?" Benoit continued, gently tilting the chin up. He never saw Eddie flirting with men so it was a logical assumption.

 

Eddie blushed and gave a meek nod.

 

"No need to feel embarrassed. We'll fix that," Chris laughed. "I can tell that we'll be perfect together."

 

Eddie smiled shyly, feeling at ease now that the anger was gone. The mood swings made him nervous, but surely they would go away soon. "I love you, ese," he murmured, resting his head against the broad warm chest.

 

"So do I, Eddie, so do I," Chris replied softly.

 

Eddie let out a content sigh. He shouldn't have run his mouth off, but the Canadian was cheerful now. Everything was alright again.

 

Surely Chris wouldn't get mad at him again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

  _March 2003_

 

 

 

 

Eddie woke up, stretching luxuriously. He glanced at the sleeping form next to him and smiled fondly. They had been going out for a little over three weeks now, and he couldn't have been happier. He really did love Chris and he was sure the other man loved him too. It was just that ...... Benoit's rather bipolar mood swings and the way he had been kept on a very tight leash right from the start made him uneasy, but he never said anything towards the Canadian; Chris only had good intentions at heart and he wasn't about to push the buttons. He saw Benoit beginning to wake up. He bit his lips, hoping his best friend was in a better mood this morning than yesterday. He absently rubbed a bruise on his collarbone, remembering the way the older man yelled at him and hit him. He flinched at the memory. It was his fault for setting his lover off so he deserved the harsh words and iron fists.

 

Chris yawned and sat up, scratching his chest. He looked down and realized the younger wrestler was awake as well. "Good morning, cheri," he greeted tiredly, smiling. The latino beamed at him. He ran his hand through the soft brown hair - he always loved the feel of it. Eddie leaned into his hand contentedly. "I'm sorry for blowing up on you last night, but you understand why I did, right?" he apologized quietly.

 

Nails scratched his head, sending tickling sensations directly to his spine. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry," he replied, resting on the Canadian's torso.

 

"Why don't you head up and start cooking breakfast?" Chris murmured softly.

 

"Okay," Eddie said, yawning again. He sat up and got off of the bed, walking over to the kitchen. Cold tiles met his bare feet and he shivered. He was only clad in sweatpants and a white tank top. It was awfully chilly for March, but then again, spring had yet to set in. He flicked the lights on and looked in the refrigerator. There were pancake mix, eggs, milk, and orange juice. He gnawed on the insides of his cheeks, debating what to make before deciding to cook pancakes and scrambled eggs. He turned on the oven and grabbed a couple of mixing bowls.

 

Ten minutes had passed. The eggs were done and he was almost finished with the pancakes. He was flipping a couple when strong arms wrapped around him in a hug.

 

"Smells good," Benoit drawled. The kitchen had a whole homely look to it and seeing his lover in this domesticated setting nearly drove him mad with want.

 

"I hope you're hungry. We each get six pancakes," Eddie chirped cheerfully.

 

"Hmm," Chris grunted, nibbling on an ear.

 

Eddie bit on his lips to stop a chuckle from escaping and leaned back against the Canadian, smirking when he felt a hardness poking the small of his back. "Excited to eat, cariño?" he snickered.

 

Benoit let out a husky growl and reached over to turn the oven off.

 

"Hey! Don't you want food?" Eddie protested mildly, but didn't bother turning it back on. Then he was picked up and carried over to the couch. He laughed when he was pushed onto his back and his friend climbed on top of him. "I guess there is more than one way to get your breakfast," he quipped with a straight face.

 

Chris snorted and quieted his lover with a firm kiss.

 

Eddie eagerly returned the affections, lacing his hands on the back of Benoit's neck. He felt fingers prying his sweatpants and boxers down, and he wiggled a bit to help get them off.

 

Chris couldn't help but smiled at the gesture. He remembered the night they first made love. The younger man was a nervous wreck and he took care to be gentle as not to cause any pain. He remembered being caught by surprise to discover that his smaller friend can be every bit as dominant as him. He managed to get the pants and undergarments off, and tossed them across the room.

 

Eddie grinned and sat up to brush his lips against Chris' in an effort to tease the other man.

 

It worked.

 

Perhaps a little too well.

 

He was pushed back on the couch and Benoit practically devoured him. He let out a little squeak when the Canadian thrust into him; he wasn't expecting Chris to do this so quickly and without preparation. He winced a little at the burning sensation that wouldn't go away. "Hey. What's the hurry, papi?" he joked weakly, his voice strained.

 

Chris ignored the small comment, increasing his speed. Only when he heard a tight whimper did he slow down. He looked at his lover, shocked to see the face pitched up in pain. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

 

"J-Just take it a little slower, why don'tcha? I'm still kind of new at this," Eddie muttered, flinching when Benoit pulled out of him.

 

"Ah. Sorry. I forgot," Chris laughed, sitting back on his knees.

 

"Obviously," Eddie grumbled under his breath. He scooted backwards and froze when he felt wetness. He glanced down, alarmed to see blood trickling down between his thighs. "Chris?!" he squeaked, shivering from the shock.

 

Benoit looked at the trail. "Oops. I think I was a little too rough with you. I'll go get the cream," he murmured, walking over to the medical cabinet.

 

"Just a little?" Eddie repeated, disbelief lining his tone.

 

"Calm down," Chris snapped, kneeling between the legs.

 

Eddie cried out when a finger entered him. It may be lubricated with the cream, but it still stung the torn flesh. "Stopstopstopstopstop," he begged incoherently, twisting from the uncomfortable pressure.

 

"Keep still! I'm almost done," Benoit growled, his free hand pinning the stomach.

 

Another whimper slipped out of Eddie and he strained away from his friend. It hurt. "Please, stop."

 

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Chris took his finger out. "Do you have to be such a baby?"

 

Eddie glared at the other wrestler. "It fucking hurt! What did you want me to say? 'Oh, yes, Benny. Please more?'" he snapped. His lover's blue eyes narrowed. He knew that meant the older man was starting to get real pissed off, but he was in too much pain to care. What started off as a peaceful morning now shattered into this mess. "And I could have put the cream on myself anyway. You didn't have to fucking ram your fingers into me like—" his rant was cut off as he was slapped hard across the face. He stiffened, his anger evaporating, and glanced at the Canadian warily.

 

Benoit stood up and grabbed the sweatpants, throwing it at the latino. "Put them on and shut the hell up. I don't want to hear anything else out of your smart-aleck mouth," he growled.

 

Eddie tugged the pants up, ignoring the way the wetness clung to his boxers. He looked away, rubbing his shoulder nervously.

 

Benoit sat back down with a loud sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

Eddie opened his mouth, about to apologize, but quickly stopped himself. He remembered the last time he disobeyed that order.

 

_"The problem with you is that you never listen! Can't you, for once in your life, shut up!?"_

 

He glanced down, studying the carpet.

 

Awkward silence blossomed in the cold room.

 

Thankfully, there was a knock on the door. Eddie quickly jumped off of the couch, ignoring the growl from Benoit. He opened the door, seeing that it was one of the delivery guys.

 

"Hello. I got an order here for Mr. Chris Benoit. Is he home? I need his signature."

 

"Yeah. Chris, package for you!" Eddie called out to his friend.

 

Benoit came up to the door, smiling at the delivery man. "Thank you."

 

"You're welcome. Have a good day, sirs."

 

Chris closed the door and glared at the smaller wrestler who shrank against the wall. "Next time somebody knocks on the door, I'll answer it, not you. Go clean up the mess you made in the kitchen," he barked.

 

Eddie tentatively stepped sideways, half expecting Chris to grab him, and bounded over to the stove. He dumped the cold eggs in the trash can and threw the pancakes out of the window. As he was wiping down the counter, his phone went off in his pocket. He glanced warily in the direction of the bedroom, but the Canadian didn't come out or yell at him. He dried his hands quickly and grabbed his cell. It was a text message from Lita. A goofy grin split across his face; he couldn't help it. The crazy chica always made him feel better.

 

_'Whatup? Miss you! Rey says hi.'_

 

Grinning ear-to-ear now, he quickly typed his reply and sent it, slipping the phone back in his pocket.

 

"What are you doing? I hope you aren't finished yet, this is a poor job of cleaning."

 

The dark snarl caused him to jump. "Ah. No. I was just taking a short break, that's all," he muttered, scuffing his feet on the floor shyly.

 

Benoit arched one eyebrow. "It's only been five minutes. Are you really that lazy? Maybe it’s true what they say about Latinos always slacking off. Gimme your phone," he snapped, holding out his hand impatiently.

 

Eddie glared at the man, his temper flaring again. "Fuck you! I'm not your maid and it's not that big of a mess. If you think I don't clean to your standards, then you fucking clean it yourself!" he snarked, tossing the washcloth at Chris' face and stalking off to the front door.

 

"Where do you think you're going?"

 

"Out. I think we need space for a while," he muttered curtly, grabbing the knob. But before he could open the door, stout arms wrapped around his waist and he was carried over to the bedroom. He kicked and clawed at Benoit, even elbowing the man. "Get the fuck off of me, you bastard!" he half-yelled, then he was pushed onto the bed, his wrists being pinned and the Canadian straddled his hips. "Goddammit, Chris! Let me go!" he spat at the heavier wrestler. One beefy hand went up in the air and punched him in the jaw. He froze, his struggles jerking to a screeching halt.

 

"Shut the fuck up. You talk too much," Chris snarled.

 

Eddie scowled and twisted, trying to get Benoit off of him.

 

Chris rolled his eyes at his lover's stubborn act. "Look. I'm sorry that I hurt you back on the couch earlier. I honestly didn't mean to, but that's no excuse for you to be a jerk."

 

Eddie flinched and went still, looking away. His jaw was throbbing and his wrists were aching from Benoit's crushing grip on them.

 

"You're not going to apologize for your rude behavior, are you," Chris said flatly, more of a statement than a question. The younger man ignored him and he fought the urge to punch his friend again. "Fine," he growled and got off.

 

Eddie blinked in surprise when the weight on him vanished and he sat up in time to see Benoit leaving the room and slamming the door shut. He heard the unmistakable _'click'_  and he jumped out of the bed. "Hey! Pendejo! Let me out!" he yelled out, pounding at the door.

 

"I'm going to come back in an hour. If you haven't calmed down by then, I'll resort to other methods," Benoit replied smoothly, putting the key in the pocket on his shirt and walking over to the living room.

 

Eddie's throat constricted at those words, knowing that "other methods" was just a fancy way of saying that Chris will beat him up again. He sighed and walked back to the bed, flopping on the mattress. He went too far. He cursed his hotheaded self. Why did he have to get so angry so easily? _'I need to stop ruining everything.'_  His cell went off again, but he ignored it, instead curling up on his side and staring at the wall. The  _'tick tock_ ' of the clock lulled him to sleep.

 

Chris came back to the bedroom an hour later, surprised to find his lover asleep. He watched the latino for a few minutes before going to the bed and leaning over the smaller man. He planted a soft kiss on the forehead, running his hand through the hair. He regretted lashing out earlier, but he couldn't help it. The other wrestler can infuriate him so much sometimes. They would have to have a long talk later. The younger man's attitude had to go. "I love you," he whispered to his best friend, pulling the blanket over the sleeping body and leaving the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 


	2. Underlying Tensions

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

The soft background noise of the news on the television and the quiet hum of the space heater filled the silence. Chris looked up from his book when he heard shuffling from the bedroom.

 

Eddie stumbled into the living room, yawning. He had a completely disheveled look; brown hair all tosseled, tank top riding on his stomach, and sweatpants sliding down his hips. He waved sleepily at Benoit, dragging his feet over to the kitchen.

 

Chris didn't say anything. It had been a few hours since their fight and he was still simmering, not quite boiling, but close.

 

Eddie looked in the refrigerator, but there was hardly anything substantial except for lunch meat and bread. He sighed and grabbed the turkey meat, tossing it on the counter.

 

Chris watched his friend make the sandwich, feeling a small twinge of guilt when he saw the darkening bruise on one cheek from the slap that he dealt out earlier. He also noticed the slight gait in which the younger man walked. The latino must still be in pain from his frantic actions, he realized guiltily, his anger washing away.

 

Eddie gingerly sat down on the couch, the sandwich in one hand. "What's happening on the news?" he asked amiably.

 

Chris shrugged. "No idea. I haven't been paying attention," he murmured. He moved, sitting next to his lover, pretending not to notice the way the smaller wrestler tensed for a brief second before relaxing. "Listen. We need to talk about what happened this morning."

 

Eddie took a bite of his sandwich, trying to push away the knot that was tightening in his gut. "We both said things that shouldn't have been said. I'm sorry for blowing up on you earlier," he replied flippantly. He didn't want to dwell on the fight.

 

Chris frowned. "Yes, but….I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have been so rough with you," he apologized, placing a hand on the knee.

 

The chunk that Eddie bit from the sandwich got lodged in his throat at the touch and he swallowed it down painfully. There was no reason why any intimate gesture from Chris should make his skin crawl, but it did. "Y-You're fine. We all get carried away sometimes. I'm gonna switch to a different channel," he changed the subject abruptly, grabbing the remote.

 

Chris only hummed softly and pulled the other man in his lap.

 

Eddie focused on the TV, ignoring the Canadian who planted kisses on the back of his neck. He quickly finished the rest of his lunch. He jumped slightly when Benoit's hands went down to the front of his pants, working at the strings.

 

Benoit suckled on one earlobe, growling in triumph when he finally loosened the sweatpants and tugged them down slightly so that they sagged just below the hips.

 

"Chris..." Eddie started to protest, but then a groan slipped past his lips when one hand softly tickled up his side and the other skitted teasingly around his inner thighs.

 

"Shh. Let me take care of you," Chris shushed soothingly, nibbling ever so lightly on the neck.

 

Eddie struggled to stay alert, but the sleepy lull of pleasure soon dragged him down and he sagged against the stout wrestler. Then Benoit moved and he was laying on his back on the couch.

 

Chris knelt between the legs and tenderly kissed his lover, smiling at the low moan that arose from the smaller man.

 

Eddie flinched when the Canadian grind against him, the pleasure receding slightly, and he instinctively tried to close his thighs.

 

The reaction didn't go unnoticed by Chris and he placed soothing pecks along his friend's jawline. "I'm not going to do that. Don't worry. I'll wait till you're ready," he whispered, smiling softly as he tugged a strap of the tank top off the chicano's shoulder.

 

Eddie looked at his lover, sensing no deception and relaxed again, succumbing to Chris's affections. He noted absently that while the hands touching him can be hard and unforgiving, they can also be impossibly gentle and crafty.

 

Benoit dipped his head and suckled on the skin where the neck met the shoulder, earning a contented hum. One of his hands went up to brush through the hair and skittered down lightly, his index finger caressing the spot behind the ear in slow, teasing circles.

 

Eddie shivered, pleasure starting to pool low in his abdomen. " _Jeez,_ " he breathed and then Chris took his lips captive again.

 

Benoit bit down on the lower lip and deepened the kiss, his hand going back up to fist the short hair. His lover's hands grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer. He growled happily when he felt the smaller man hardened against his thigh.

 

At that moment, the cell went off in the pocket of Eddie's sweats. He glanced at Chris sheepishly.

 

Benoit snorted and sat back up, making sure that he rubbed against his friend's erection. "Don't take too long," he purred, smirking at the quiet whine that escaped from the other wrestler.

 

Eddie flashed a light glare towards the Canadian. He sat up, his back against the armrest of the couch. He dug around his pocket, pulling his phone out. He glanced at the caller I.D and groaned. "Lita," he sighed at Chris. The chica had the uncanny talent of calling at inappropriate times. He answered it, "Que pasa?"

 

Benoit grinned and moved closer, nuzzling against Eddie. He loved it when his lover spoke in Spanish. It drove him nuts.

 

Eddie tried to ignore Chris, focusing on Lita's inane chatter. "Your dog is a mutant turtle what?!" he repeated, baffled. Then a squeak escaped from him when a tongue massaged his pulse point. He pushed the other man off. "Chris!" he hissed quietly.

 

Lita smirked. "Am I interrupting something?" she snickered; she heard the gasp from the other end and she recognized it from what it was. She wasn't the nice little Miss innocent that everyone think she was.

 

"Uh?" Eddie fumbled, blushing. He flashed another glare at the bigger wrestler.

 

"Well, I won't take long then. Me, Dawn, Rey-Rey, and Adam will be at Waffle House tonight around 7. You two better be there or I'll hunt you down. You two have another four hours of fucking so make the most of it," she chuckled, about to hang up.

 

"We weren't - we're not fucking!" Eddie stammered into the line. He only got a laugh from the diva.

 

"Right. See you at 7."

 

He stared at his phone when the other line hung up. He sighed and sagged against the couch.

 

Chris placed a light kiss on the forehead. "So what's going on?" he murmured.

 

"The gang's meeting at Waffle House in a few hours. We probably should start getting ready around 5:30 or so," Eddie replied, running his hand through his hair.

 

Chris paused for a moment, frowning. "And you didn't ask me for permission…?" he snapped.

 

Eddie stared at the Canadian incredulously. "Are you serious? I'm 35. I can make my own decisions. If you don't want to go, then don't go, but I'm going," he argued.

 

Benoit narrowed his eyes in anger and moved so that he towered over his lover, his knee digging in between the other man's legs. "Excuse me?"

 

Eddie yelped, squirming from the uncomfortable pressure. "Chris, stop it. What's your fucking problem?" he gritted out, his voice starting to turn shrill.

 

"My problem is your attitude! You're such a selfish, smartass bastard that you won't think of anybody else but your damn self," Chris growled, increasing the pressure.

 

Eddie couldn't hold back a whimper, tears starting to prick the corners of his eyes. "F-First of all, Lita invited us. I'm not going to be rude and turn down the offer just b-because you're an asshole," he snarked curtly, a whine jerking out of him when the knee slammed against his groin again. "Fuck you!"

 

Benoit stilled, the hurtful words shocking him, then he retaliated, swinging his fist down on the smaller wrestler's jaw.

 

Pain radiated from his jawline and Eddie threw a punch of his own, feeling grim satisfaction at the crack of the nose under his fist. "Get the fuck off of me," he growled out, trying to get off of the couch.

 

Chris spit the blood and pinned down his friend. "I think you need another time out," he muttered.

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?! You're the one who started this shit, you piece of -" Eddie started to yell then his mouth was covered with one sweaty hand.

 

"Shut up, runt," Benoit snapped, feeling a twinge of regret at the furious way the brown eyes glared at him. He knew his dear friend hated any jokes or insults about his height.

 

Eddie bit down on the palm and thrust his knee up against the Canadian's crotch, the other man falling off of him with a cry. "Pendejo," he muttered under his breath.

 

Chris hissed from the sharp pain throbbing from below and grabbed the latino's ankle, yanking it.

 

Eddie yelped in surprise when his foot was jerked and he fell down, landing awkwardly on his side. Then the bigger wrestler climbed on top of him. He stilled, fear overwhelming him for a second before he snapped out of it. "For fuck's sake, get off of me!" he barked, anger washing over him.

 

"You're being a jerk," Chris snarled, dragging his lover by the shirt towards the bedroom, ignoring the cussing and kicking.

 

"It's just a fucking meeting. Why is it such a big deal?" Eddie grumbled.

 

Chris only sighed, not answering the question. "Get on the bed," he ordered.

 

Eddie remained put, crossing his arms and sneering at the Canadian. "Bite me," he retorted.

 

"Do we have to go through this again?"

 

The cold words made him shiver and he looked away, still not moving.

 

Benoit's face hardened. "Fine. So be it," he grunted quietly, grabbing his friend's arm and yanking the other man up, ignoring how his nails dug into the skin.

 

Eddie winced from the sharp pain that flared up from the motion, but didn't say anything. Then he was pushed onto the mattress. He shrank when Chris climbed on top of him. "What are you -" his question was cut off when his pants were removed and his legs were lifted. Icy terror wrapped around him and he twisted in panic. "Nonononono," he pleaded frantically, jerking away from the other man.

 

"Stop it. I asked you to get on the bed and you didn't listen. I asked you if we have to go through this again and you didn't say anything. You brought this on yourself," Benoit snapped, pinning the hips. "If you would just think ahead instead of being an ass, this wouldn't have to happen!"

 

Eddie didn't reply to that, writhing and twisting from his lover. He let out a harsh scream when a finger started to push in and Chris quickly covered his mouth again.

 

"Shut up," Benoit said quietly. The sight of his friend panicking hurt him more than he thought it would. He didn't want to do this, but the behavior was getting out of hand. 'Have to nip them right in the bud.'

 

Eddie bit down on the hand again and kicked at the other man, scrambling up on the bed, trembling from shock.

 

Chris wheezed, standing back up on his feet. His ribs throbbed from where the foot had kicked him. He made his way towards his friend with his hands up, trying to come off as non threatening. "Eddie, I'm sorry, but you did ask for this and -"

 

"J-Just go away. Get out," Eddie snapped, not meeting the Canadian's eyes.

 

"Fine," Chris didn't argue, going out and shutting the door, locking it.

 

Eddie slid down to the mattress, hugging himself. The room was so cold. He bowed his head, trying not to cry.

 

In the kitchen, Benoit grabbed the cordless telephone, dialing Lita's number. The brunette picked up at the first ring.

 

"Hello!"

 

"Hey, Amy. It's Chris." Benoit murmured softly, "Are we still meeting at 7?"

 

"Yes, why?"

 

"Well, I'll come, but Eddie can't make it. He came down with a fever. He says sorry."

 

"Oh," Lita said, surprised. The SmackDown! wrestler sounded healthy when she talked to him.

 

"I'll see you there with the gang."

 

"Okay. Sounds good," Lita echoed, hanging up. She frowned, concerned. This...didn't add up. At all. She'll visit the latino while everybody has dinner at Waffle House. She doubt Chris would give her the answers she needed. Mind made up, she started to get ready.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris walked to the bedroom door and hesitated. He was still sore from the rough brawl even after he put ice on his stinging ribs. He knocked tentatively. "Eddie?" he called out.

 

No answer.

 

Sighing, he put the key in the lock and opened the door. He looked around the room, spotting his friend laying on the bed. "Eddie?" he called out again.

 

Eddie jumped when he heard the small voice and curled up in a tight ball.

 

Chris became sad, knowing he was responsible for the fear. He walked towards to other man and sat down on the mattress. "Listen. I'm sorry about what happened. I shouldn't have done that," he murmured, about to put his hand on the hip.

 

"Don't fucking touch me," Eddie snapped out, not looking at the Canadian. His own hands dug into the blanket tightly.

 

Chris paused, looking at his best friend. "Okay. I'm going to go and get ready," he mumbled sadly, standing back up and walked out.

 

Eddie waited for the telltale click of the door being locked, but there was none. He glanced over in surprise. Chris must not be mad at him anymore. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief and sat up, rubbing his shoulder. He got off of the bed and tip toed over to the door, creaking it open and peeking in the room. It was empty. He glanced over at the bathroom that was adjacent to the bedroom, deciding that a quick shower would be nice. He hurriedly shed his clothes until he was just in his boxers. He risked a quick glance again, making sure the room was still empty and made a mad dash towards the bathroom. He closed the door and went over to the bathtub, turning the spout on. Hot water streamed over his hand and he relaxed. He switched it over to the showerhead and began taking his boxers off when the door opened. He froze on spot, the shorts just past his hips.

 

"What are you doing?" Chris asked, leaning against the doorway, smirking.

 

"Um. About to take a shower," Eddie muttered, pulling the undergarment back up.

 

"No, no, go on. Get in. I'll join you," Chris murmured, walking forward.

 

"Are you fucking serious?! After what you just did to me -" Eddie started to protest, his voice rising with his anger that was steadily growing. Then he was cut off as Benoit kissed him, hard, and pushed him slightly against the tub till that the back of his knees hit the edge. He growled and pushed the Canadian off.

 

"Get in the damn shower," Chris hissed, exerting slight pressure on the shoulders, "Or I'll force you in there. Your choice."

 

Eddie's throat closed at the words, recognizing the huskiness in his lover's voice. "Okay. I'll get in," he said almost inaudibly, stepping in the bathtub without looking at the other man.

 

"Aren't you going to take the shorts off?" Chris quipped, raising one eyebrow up.

 

"No. I rather keep them on," Eddie muttered tightly, still not meeting the blue gaze that sparked with amusement. He stayed in the corner, feeling cold despite the warm water hitting him, and watched the bigger wrestler take the clothes off with wary eyes.

 

Chris hummed a soft tune and stepped in the bathtub, kissing his friend on the cheek. He pulled the curtains across, encasing them so that the water steam rise up.

 

Eddie swallowed nervously and pressed himself further against the wall. That didn't do shit as Benoit only moved in closer and reached behind him to grab his ass. He flinched when his body was pulled up against the other man's flushed one. "Chris…" he whined.

 

"I'm sorry for hurting you earlier. I really am," Benoit whispered, pecking his lover on the neck.

 

"I told you to not touch me and -" Eddie started to say but then his voice hitched when the tongue pushed on the hollow of his throat. He fought to keep his head clear, but the pleasure soon rode over him. "You're a complete jerk sometimes," he growled.

 

"Only because you piss me off. You need to learn to just shut up and listen," Chris mumbled, moving up to kiss the latino firmly on the lips.

 

Eddie pushed Benoit off again. "We can't keep going on like this," he snapped. Then he was pushed against the wall again and a hand cupped his crotch. "I'm serious!"

 

"Hush. We'll talk about this later. Let's fuck."

 

He flinched at the husky words, looking away. "I'm not in the mood. Some other time," he mumbled.

 

"I don't care," Chris retorted.

 

"Fuck you, pendejo. I'm not in _the damn mood._  Get that through your thick skull," Eddie snapped angrily, starting to get out of the tub.

 

Benoit's eyes narrowed slightly. He grabbed the shoulders and yanked his lover back.

 

Eddie stumbled backwards, slamming against the Canadian. He gasped indignantly when he felt hands pulling his boxers down and a knee nudging his thighs apart. "Don't you fucking dare!"

 

Chris dodged the elbow that came flying towards his face and ripped the shorts, pressing his erection against the ass.

 

"Don't you do it. Don't do it." Eddie hissed out, straining from the pendejo, but a hand pinned his chest. "Goddammit, you said you wouldn't do this till I was ready. I'm not ready!" he snapped out panicky, jerking against the hold.

 

The cry stopped Chris and he backed away. "What?" he muttered.

 

"Y-You said you wouldn't do this until I'm ready. You said it back on the couch. I'm not ready. Not now," Eddie gasped out, shaking. Under normal circumstances, he would be embarrassed at how his voice was quivering, but at the moment, he just wanted Chris off and away from him.

 

"So if I continue, I'd be assaulting you? Is that it? Is that what you're implying?" Chris scoffed, turning the younger man around. "Look at me," he murmured, tilting the chin up gently.

 

Eddie looked up, trying not to whimper.

 

"I love you. I love you more than anything. Do you think I'm lying?"

 

He shook his head, biting down on his lip.

 

"There's no such thing as rape in a relationship, okay? Dear?" Chris continued softly. He didn't know why, but it was important that the smaller wrestler believed him.

 

Eddie cringed and looked away.

 

"Eddie, the last thing I want to do is to hurt you. But that doesn't happen. Have you ever heard of it?" Benoit persisted, lifting the chin up again.

 

Eddie shook his head again, reluctantly meeting his friend's eyes.

 

Chris's face softened and he relaxed his grip. "See? No such thing. I'll let you finish your shower. After that, I want you to go back to the room, okay? I'm going to Waffle House. I want you to stay right here in this house. When I get back, we'll finish this up. If you're in the mood by then, great. If not, well, I'm sure we'll make do," he concluded, kissing his lover on the forehead and leaving the shower. He much rather stay and finish, but he didn't want to put up with the latino's hysteria.

 

Eddie remained huddled against the wall, shivering. He swallowed again and forced himself to straighten up. He hurriedly washed himself and rinsed before turning the water off. He grabbed a towel and shakily dried himself off, trying hard to keep his composure. He walked back to the bedroom, yanking a pair of boxers and track pants out of the dresser. He had just finished putting the pants on when he saw Chris by the door.

 

"Just letting you know that I'm leaving. Remember, not a foot outside," Benoit murmured, eyeing his friend head to toe. "Look at you," he purred appreciatively.

 

Eddie folded his arms, looking down on his feet. "Alright. See you," he said quietly.

 

"What? No goodbye kiss?" Benoit whined mockingly.

 

Eddie clenched his jaw. "Just go, Chris."

 

Benoit's gaze went cold. "We'll discuss your attitude as well when I come back. Bye," he snapped, walking out.

 

Eddie flinched at the front door being slammed shut and sat down on the bed, staring at the ground. He should leave. This was getting out of hand. He had no idea why Chris was being so controlling, but he couldn't take it anymore. That man was  _not_  the man he fell in love with.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	3. (False) Promises

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

Chris pulled into the parking lot of Waffle House, turning the engine off. He leaned back into the seat with a sigh, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He didn't like the way things ended between him and Eddie when he left the place. They would have to talk about that as well. He gnawed on the insides of his cheeks for a while and got out of the car, deciding to get the meeting over with. While he loved their friends, now was not exactly the best time.

 

He walked into the establishment, spotting the gang sitting in the booth at the far corner. He frowned in concern when he realized Lita wasn't there. The diva was always the first one to arrive. Did something happen? "Hey, Copeland," he greeted his fellow Canadian cheerfully, nodding a polite hello to Dawn Marie and Rey.

 

"Hey man. How's things going between you … and Latino Heat?" Adam snickered, waggling his eyebrows. Dawn blushed and Rey rolled his eyes in mocked exasperation.

 

Benoit snorted and sat down next to the RAW wrestler. "They're going alright. We had a little fight earlier, but we resolved it and everything's back to normal," he replied half-truthfully. He pulled out the menu and looked over it; he might as well get something to eat while he's here.

 

Rey and Dawn exchanged curious glances. "You already resolved it?" Rey asked quietly.

 

"Yeah. Why? Something wrong?" Chris murmured without looking up.

 

"Well, no. It's just that both you and Eddie are pretty stubborn. We're just surprised that you guys managed to make up so quickly. Knowing you two, I'd assume it would be a couple of days," Dawn chimed in softly, fiddling with her necklace nervously.

 

"What? You're doubting me? Look, Eddie and I may not see eye-to-eye on some things, but we can work them out. We just have to disagree to agree sometimes, and if that doesn't always work out, I just beat it into him," Chris sighed. "Figuratively, of course," he added quickly, realizing his poor choice of words.

 

"Is Eddie really sick? Lita said that he sounded healthy when they talked on the phone before you called not even 15 minutes later," she continued, looking at Chris.

 

"I guess his voice hasn't been affected yet, but he was in pretty bad shape. I managed to get him to take a shower before I left," Benoit drawled, "Speaking of Lita, where is she?"

 

"She had to run some errands. She'll be back in about half an hour," Adam answered, sipping his coffee.

 

"Huh," Benoit grunted and waved the waitress over, ready to order.

 

Lita pulled into the driveway of the place that Eddie and Chris were staying at. She turned the car off and walked up to the porch. "Eddie? It's me, Amy. I know you're here," She called out, pounding at the door.

 

Eddie jumped from where he was sitting on the couch. He wasn't expecting her. He stood up and went over to the front door, opening it. "What are you doing here? I thought there was a meeting at Waffle House?" He asked, confused, and yawned a bit. He really was exhausted, but he didn't want to sleep until Chris got home. The last thing he needed was for the man to kick at him and yelled for being inconsiderate.

 

"There is. I came here because I'm worried. Benny told me you weren't coming because you're sick. You look just fine to me," Lita replied carelessly, studying her friend. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

 

"I...He didn't want me to come," Eddie sighed. He couldn't lie to the brazen diva.

 

Lita's eyebrow quirked up. "Why?"

 

"I don't know," Eddie muttered, shuffling his feet shyly. "It's like he doesn't trust me."

 

Lita's face softened a fraction and she moved forward to hug him. "It's okay. I'm sure he's just afraid of losing you," she murmured soothingly, rubbing his back. Something caught her eyes and she tilted the chin, turning the face so she could look at the dark bruise that splotched the right cheek. "What's this?"

 

He didn't answer, ducking his head down.

 

"Eddie. Don't shut me out, please. What happened to your face?" she pressed, tracing her finger lightly down the injured cheek.

 

"We...got into a fight earlier," Eddie mumbled, still not looking up.

 

"Verbal or physical?"

 

"Both."

 

Lita exhaled sharply, looking away. "I swear I'm going to kick his stupid ass," she growled.

 

"I'm the one who started it."

 

"I don't care who started it. This is not right!" she snapped, then sighed. "I know you love him, but this….this is not healthy."

 

Eddie fiddled with his hands, feeling uncomfortable.

 

Lita leaned against the wall. "I know it's not my place, but I'm worried all the same," she murmured quietly.

 

"I understand, but it's not like we fight everyday. We usually get along," Eddie protested lightly. He didn't need to hear this, and it was true. They only argued once in a while and Chris only lash out if he pushed too far. Most of it was his own fault, that he can admit.

 

"I'll take your word for it," she muttered, running her hand through her long, dark hair. "As long as he doesn't touch you funny."

 

"Huh?" Eddie stared at the brunette, baffled. He genuinely didn't understand what she was referring to. _'Touch me how?'_

 

Lita fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Men can be so dense sometimes. "You know, his hands on you in the wrong place?" she clarified. Her friend only seemed more confused. She groaned, "I'll have to show you then." she strode forward and snagged her finger under the waistline of the wrestler's pants.

 

Eddie froze for a split second before backing off with a startled cry. "What the hell, Lita?!"

 

"Understand now?" She drawled sardonically.

 

"He doesn't touch me like that," Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms and blushing. He wasn't lying. Chris hadn't...hurt him that way, at least not sexually. He shivered at the thought, suddenly feeling very cold. The Canadian wouldn't go that far, would he?

 

"Good. If he lays a hand on you, I don't know what I'll do to him," she growled.

 

"We're a couple, remember? I mean, he kind of has the right to do that if he wants to, but -" Eddie started to say when Lita gasped and moved so that they were nose-to-nose.

 

"Don't you fucking dare to say that, let alone think like that!" She snapped, "Just because you're in a relationship, that doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants to you without your say." She pointed a finger at his chest.

 

Eddie only blushed deeper and looked away, "but -"

 

"But nothing. Don't...let yourself be used like that," She dropped to a whisper, cupping his face. "Look at me. It doesn't matter how much you love him, you don't have to abide to everything he does," she finished.

 

Eddie blinked and lowered his eyes, looking lost.

 

Lita bit down on her lip. Her friend looked so innocent that it made her chest ache. "He's not doing that, is he? He's not taking advantage of you?"

 

"No," Eddie replied earnestly. He honestly didn't believe that Chris was doing that. Everything between them remained consensual, and he was quick to point out when Benoit took it too far and things never proceeded to the point where he felt he was in danger.

 

"Okay, good. I hate to leave, but I have to get going. Gotta meet with the group. Are you sure you don't want to go?" She asked softly.

 

He shook his head. "Nah. I think it's best if I stay here. Maybe some other time."

 

"Alright. Good night. It's nice seeing you," she said goodbye and opened the door, nearly walking into Chris.

 

"What's going on here?" Benoit grumbled, glaring at Eddie who seemingly froze on the spot.

 

"I was in the area so I decided to drop in and say a quick hello. You're right, he's awfully feverish," Lita chattered, hugging the Canadian. "Sorry that I couldn't make it in time to Waffle House." She flashed a quick glance at the latino, surprised to see the terror on his face, the brown eyes never leaving Chris. She frowned in concern, but went outside anyway. It was probably her imagination. She always did over-analyze everything. She got back into her car and turned the engine off, backing up out of the driveway and heading up to the main street to meet with the rest of the gang. She looked at the house one more time before turning at the stop sign and left.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie tensed when Chris closed the front door and locked it, belatedly realizing that Lita had left. "Nothing happened while she was here," he reassured the Canadian. Panic bubbled up inside of him. If the man didn't believe him, he might -

 

Benoit sighed and scratched his neck, looking at his lover. "I never said you couldn't have visitors, so don't worry. I'm not mad at you," he murmured, smiling softly at the smaller man.

 

Eddie relaxed slightly. "How was Waffle House?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He was still rattled from the shower incident.

 

Chris shrugged noncommittally. "It was okay. Everybody says hello. They miss you," he replied absently.

 

Eddie glanced at his best friend. He didn't want to agitate the man, but he needed to know. "How come I couldn't go with you?" It was a hesitant question, but he hoped for an honest answer. There was no legitimate reason why he couldn't accompany Chris to the place.

 

Chris blinked. "I'm not in the mood to argue about that," he growled and turned away, walking towards the bedroom.

 

"I'm not trying to pick a fight! I just want to know why," Eddie persisted, his temper starting to flare in response to the other wrestler's curt answer. It only served to let him know that all of this was a result of Benoit's impulsive decision borne of anger, and it pissed him off. He wasn't some toddler to be ordered around!

 

Benoit only let out a weary sigh. "I have my reasons, but I'm not going to explain them, least of all to you."

 

Eddie flinched, feeling stung. "But we're friends. We've known each other for over ten years. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

 

"Of course it does, but I'm not going to share everything with you. I came home, ready to relax, not to get into a damn debate with you just because you're feeling insecure," Benoit snapped, slamming the bedroom door shut.

 

Eddie looked down, his shoulders slumping. _'Oh, why do I bother?'_  He dragged his feet over to the couch and sat down.

 

A few minutes passed and Chris came out, walking to where his lover was sitting. "Hey. I didn't mean to be cross with you," he murmured apologetically.

 

"All you seemed to do is get angry at me and blow up. I can understand why sometimes, but it's getting out of control," Eddie mumbled, not looking up. All the arguing seemed to sap the last remaining ounce of strength inside.

 

"I know. I'm sorry."

 

"I..I don't know how much longer I can take of this."

 

Chris stared at the latino in shock, not believing what his friend was saying. "What?!"

 

"You hurt me, Chris. Not just my body. And you constantly boss me around and talk down on me like I'm worthless. If this is what a relationship with you is going to be like, then I want no part of it," Eddie finished, feeling drained. He finally look up to meet the blue eyes.

 

Benoit became flustered, stumbling over his words to try and talk, but he couldn't get his mouth to work.

 

Eddie stood up and walked to the bedroom, taking out his suitcase and packing his stuff.

 

"Eddie, wait! What if I promise to get better?" Chris came into the room, pleading.

 

"Even if you did, I still need time to think about it. I need space to breathe," Eddie mumbled in response.

 

Benoit panicked; he didn't want the other man to leave. "Don't just leave. Please. I didn't leave you when you were drunk and getting high all the time back then, did I?" he tried again, knowing it was a low blow.

 

Eddie stiffened. "I…"

 

"I didn't leave you then. I never gave up on our friendship because I knew it was worth fighting for. It's still worth it now. All I'm asking for is another chance. Just one," Chris continue, pushing on and seizing the opportunity, sensing the indecision.

 

Eddie paused in his packing. He turned around and looked at his friend. "You promise you'll get better?"

 

Chris nodded fervently. "Yes. I don't want to lose you because of my stupid choices."

 

Eddie hesitated. He  _did_  want to give the relationship a second chance, but he was afraid that everything would revert to the way it was at the moment.

 

Chris couldn't hold back the tears and he hugged the latino, crying. "Please. Just one more try. I'll make sure you don't regret it. Please."

 

Eddie finally gave in, hugging the other man back. "Shh. It's okay, holmes," he shushed soothingly.

 

"I swear I'll try to get better. I'm not perfect. I'll make mistakes, but I'll learn from them," Chris murmured pleadingly.

 

"I don't need perfect. I just want you as my friend more than anything else," Eddie replied gently, running his hand through the messy hair.

 

"So..you'll give this another chance?"

 

"...Yeah, I will," he sighed, feeling relieved when the Canadian beamed.

 

Chris wiped his tears away and hugged the man again. "Thank you. Thank you."

 

Eddie let out a soft laugh. "You're welcome."

 

"I'll put dinner on this time. Steak and mashed potatoes sound good?" Chris asked, smiling when the younger man nodded. He bounded out of the room, whistling cheerfully.

 

Eddie sat down on the mattress, a heavy sigh escaping from him. There was a lot of work cut out for the both of them, but they could certainly try. He owed that much to Chris at least. The man's friendship, especially during the past few years, was a debt he would never be able to fully repay.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. A Night to Remember

* * *

* * *

 

 

_11 Months Later_

 

_February 2004_

 

 

 

Eddie walked out of the SmackDown! locker room, wearing jeans and a plain white tee shirt. The segment had gone relatively well, though the champ had been a bit of a pendejo in the ring. He was sore from the tag team match and his body ached from the spinebuster that Brock dealt out on him.

 

"Hey, love," Chris greeted the latino cheerfully.

 

"Hey, cariño," Eddie returned the greeting, pecking the Canadian on the lips.

 

"Had a good day at work?" Benoit murmured, wrapping his arm around the slim waist.

 

"Yeah. Brock is an ass, that's all," Eddie replied, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair. He was certainly looking forward to getting the title away from Lesnar later this month. The man was arrogant and cared little else but bragging about being the best in the world.

 

"Ignore him. Just think, in a few weeke, you'll be the new WWE champion!" Chris grunted, elbowing the smaller man playfully.

 

Eddie brightened up a little at that, the thought bringing a small smile to his face. "I can't wait."

 

"And by the end of March, we'll both be carrying the gold," Benoit boasted.

 

"Hard to believe. It still feels like it was just yesterday that we were starting off at ECW or Japan," Eddie murmured wistfully. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Vince thought he was worthy enough to carry the title.

 

"Time flies regardless of if we're having fun or not. Though I'd say we certainly had fun. 'Pecially over the last several months," Chris commented, kissing the younger man on the cheek.

 

Eddie smirked, a dirty thought immediately popping in his head. "Right. Bet you miss that since we haven't seen each other in a couple of weeks," he teased.

 

Chris blinked, an innocent look on his face. "Uh?" he flustered, then a not-so-subtle poke at his crotch cleared things up. He glared at his lover, but his lips were already starting to curve into a smile.

 

Eddie fought back a snicker, shrugging nonchalantly as he walked a few feet ahead. "I suppose that if you're not in the mood … " he drawled carelessly, meaning to provoke the other wrestler.

 

Chris grabbed his friend and went into a closet, closing the door. "Stop being a tease," he muttered.

 

"But it's fun. Nice place you choose here. Think that -" Eddie's chatter was cut off as the Canadian kissed him hungrily.

 

"It's been a miserable two weeks without you," Chris grumbled after a few minutes.

 

"Mmm. It has," Eddie quipped, breathing a bit heavily. He felt flushed and he was sure the older man was the same. Things between them had rapidly improved since that night, and he was beyond thrilled that there were hardly any fights now.

 

Benoit quickly worked at the jeans his lover was clad in, growling in frustration as the zipper refused to cooperate. Just as he got the fly opened, there was suddenly loud voices outside.

 

"Eddie! Benny! We know you two are back here somewhere! Stop fucking and come out."

 

Chris sighed, resting his head on the latino's shoulder. "Our friends sure have lousy timing," he muttered.

 

Eddie laughed quietly. "Come on, ese. Let's just fix ourselves up and play along. What's a couple hours when we'll have the whole night later?" he murmured.

 

Chris only grunted, pulling away reluctantly, but not before placing one last lingering kiss on the soft lips.

 

Eddie hummed happily and zipped his pants back up, checking himself over to make sure nothing was out of place.

 

Just in time too, as the door suddenly opened.

 

"Ehh?! This is the janitor's closet! What're you two doing here?" One of the custodian staff stuttered, looking at them in complete bewilderment.

 

Eddie stifled a snicker and tugged the Canadian out. "Sorry, holmes!" he called out over his shoulder.

 

"We got lucky," Chris mumbled, blushing.

 

"His face was priceless," Eddie chuckled. He spot their friends not too far off. "Orale!"

 

Lita turned around, spotting the couple. "About damn time! We've been looking for ya for the past ten minutes. Where were y'all?"

 

"Oh. Just cleaning out. The shed, I mean," Eddie replied with a straight face.

 

"The closet? Really? You two are disgusting," Lita sighed, rolling her eyes.

 

"Happy anniversary! Congratulations on being together for one year!" Dawn Marie chimed in, smiling brightly.

 

Eddie froze. _'Shit. That day is already here?'_  He forced a grin when Chris turned to look at him.

 

"Yeah. Twelve months of fun, hmm?" The Canadian murmured, winking conspiratorially, "I can't wait to see what you got planned."

 

"Neither can I. I mean, I can't wait to see your reaction," Eddie stammered, starting to panic. What the hell was he going to do? The man certainly wasn't going to be happy if he came up with nothing. His legs shook a little at the yelling he would surely get once Benoit found out.

 

"Gimme a hug, bro! This is a fantastic occasion to go out and party," Adam shouldered in, opening his arms.

 

Chris laughed and walked over to his co-worker, falling victim to the man's bear hug.

 

Lita chose that moment to sneak in and whispered, "You have nothing for the anniversary, right."

 

"Nada," Eddie whispered back, the panic flaring up again.

 

"Why am I not surprised to hear that?" she murmured dryly.

 

"I didn't realized it was today," he hissed back quietly.

 

Lita only shook her head. "Why don't I take you shopping while the gang keep him busy?" she offered, nodding her head to her friend's lover.

 

Eddie flashed the diva a relieved glance. "Thanks. I owe you big time."

 

"Nah. Anything for you," Lita shrugged off the gratitude. "Come on, let's go before the stores close."

 

Eddie nodded and picked up his bag. "Bye, Chris! I'll see you soon!"

 

"Wait, where are you going?" Chris asked, looking at his best friend with concern.

 

"Ah, we're going to make a reservation for all of us at a restaurant," Eddie replied, throwing a smile at Chris in attempt to reassure the other man.

 

Chris blinked, but waved his lover off. He wasn't worried and he trusted Lita to keep the latino out of trouble. He turned back to Adam's babbling, Dawn's soft questions, and Rey's silence.

 

Hours later, after three stores, Lita and Eddie walked in Kay.

 

She glanced at the SmackDown! wrestler, almost laughing at the baffled expression. "What's wrong? Never did this before?" she asked.

 

"Well, no. I never really had an actual relationship that lasted this long," Eddie mumbled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders.

 

Lita snorted in amusement. "Yeah, well, first time for everything I guess."

 

Eddie looked around at the jewelry. He had no idea whatsoever what to get for the Canadian. "Um, is a watch okay?"

 

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Get him something that really shows him how much you love him, and how much you cherish both the friendship and relationship," she groaned.

 

"Oh."

 

The small voice made her smile a little and she pat his shoulder encouragingly. Even so, this frustrated her. Every men she knew always put off shopping till the very last minute; in this case, it was literal.

 

Eddie glanced in one of the ring cases. A pair in particular caught his eyes. They were a beautiful shade of gold brimming under the bright fluorescent lights. Nothing terribly fancy. "What about these?" he murmured, nudging at the diva.

 

"Oh, they're gorgeous," Lita agreed.

 

"Can I help you folks? Looking at rings, I see. Anything you like?" the salesperson greeted them, smiling hugely.

 

"Yes, you can. We like this pair," Lita replied, pointing at the two gold rings.

 

"Ah, fine choice, my dear lady. I'll get them. Are you two together?"

 

Eddie started to shake his head when Lita wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, startling him. He glanced at the dark-haired woman in surprise.

 

"Yes we are, actually," Lita purred at the man, flashing an overbearing smile.

 

"How lovely. An anniversary today, I presume? I'll be right back," the salesman congratulated them, heading to the employees' room.

 

"Wh-What are you doing?" Eddie hissed quietly.

 

"Just trust me on this. Play along," Lita whispered, winking at her friend.

 

Eddie blinked and averted his eyes away, blushing faintly.

 

"The innocent look on your face doesn't suit you," she commented wryly.

 

Eddie's blush only deepened. "I'm gonna get you back for this," he grumbled.

 

Lita's response was a short laugh.

 

The clerk came back with the rings, the same oily smile still plastered on his face. "Come on, have a seat over here," he beckoned to a table.

 

Once they had all gathered around, the rings were polished and examined before being presented to the wrestlers.

 

"Thank you," Lita murmured, taking the rings. She was sitting on her co-worker's lap.

 

"How d'you like 'em precious?"

 

She chuckled softly. "They're very nice."

 

Eddie fought back to keep from blushing when Lita turned around and put the ring on his finger. He didn't know why the whole act was making him uncomfortable. He knew that Lita didn't see him anything more than a close friend. So what was the problem?

 

"Well, babe? Do you like it still?" Lita quipped quietly.

 

"Yeah. It's nice. A perfect fit," Eddie answered hastily, looking at the ring again. They were honestly nice. Chris should like this gift.

 

"I can have them engraved with your guys' names without any additional costs. No strings attached," the salesman chimed in, grinning at the clients.

 

"That'd be perfect, thank you. You like that?" Lita murmured, looking at the latino for confirmation.

 

Eddie nodded, barely stifling a yelp when she kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth.

 

The clerk only chuckled and stood up, taking the rings with him. "I need your names."

 

"Eddie, E-D-D-I-E, and Chris, C-H-R-I-S," Lita responded.

 

The worker quirked one eyebrow up. "That's a strange name for you, my dear."

 

"Yes, I know. Tell that to my weird parents," Lita groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically.

 

"Ah," the salesman sympathized before going back to the office.

 

Now that they were out of curious eyes, Lita looked at her friend. "Sorry. I know you're not comfortable with this, but it'll pay off in the end," she whispered soothingly.

 

Eddie only sighed.

 

Half an hour passed by the time the worker came back with the newly refurbished and engraved rings. "All ready!" he chirped.

 

"Thank you so much," Lita gushed.

 

Eddie took out his wallet. "How much does this cost?" he asked, bracing himself for a hefty price.

 

"$150.95"

 

"Eh?! That low?" Eddie exclaimed, staring at the man incredulously.

 

"Normally, it'd be around $300, but since you two are such a nice couple, I brought the cost down a bit," the salesman explained, winking.

 

"Oh. That's nice of you," Eddie murmured, glancing at Lita who only smirked at him. Now he understood. He quickly paid for the rings with his credit card, signing the receipt and taking the box that the rings were in.

 

They walked out of the store, waving goodbye to the worker.

 

"What did I tell you?" Lita crowed.

 

"You're evil," Eddie muttered, shaking his head.

 

"Like you're a saint. Come on, let's catch up with the rest of the group," she laughed, tugging him to the car.

 

Eddie snorted and sped up to keep pace with the diva, nearly sprinting. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The gang pulled up in the parking lot of the Marriott. It was busy, even this late at night. A large crowd was gathered at the entrance.

 

"Holy shit. It's eleven o'clock and there are this many people here?" Adam exclaimed, stepping out of the car.

 

"Duh. It's a hotel. What did you expect?" Lita muttered, giving the blonde Canadian a withering glance.

 

Rey fixed his shirt and helped Dawn get out of the backseat. "A good hotel too. You'd assume it to be busy, regardless of what day it is," he added quietly.

 

"Hopefully the dance floor isn't too crowded," Chris grumbled.

 

"Like you can dance," Eddie snickered, brushing the dust off of his pants.

 

"Better than you," Benoit scoffed.

 

"Oh yeah?" Eddie teased.

 

Before they started to argue, Lita shoved them towards the hotel entrance. "Save it for the bedroom later, lovebirds. Let's try to have fun tonight," she growled.

 

Eddie stuck his tongue out at Chris who only scowled.

 

After twenty minutes of standing in line and another ten minutes of getting through the lobby, they finally got their rooms' cards.

 

"Alright. We'll meet back in the lobby in about fifteen," Lita called out over her shoulder, carrying her back and heading off to the west wing.

 

Eddie and Chris went to the elevators, waving goodbye to the rest of the group.

 

"This is going to be a long night," Chris sighed as he pushed the 'up' button.

 

"Hey, at least we'll be enjoying ourselves. It's not too often that we get to see everyone," Eddie quipped cheerfully. His only response was a loud groan.

 

The elevator on the right chimed and opened up. A family exited out of it, the kids whining to the weary-looking parents.

 

Eddie stifled a snort, grateful that he didn't have any kids of his own, as he headed to the elevator and hit the button for the eighth floor.

 

Chris waited until the doors closed before wrapping his arms around the waist and pulling the latino up against him. "Think we can pull a quickie before meeting back up with the gang?" he whispered, nibbling on an earlobe.

 

Eddie let out a soft laugh. "Can't wait, cariño?" he murmured.

 

"No. I miss you too much."

 

He only shook his head ruefully. "Ah, why not?"

 

Chris smiled and kissed his lover gently on the back of the neck, pulling away just as the doors opened.

 

Eddie threw a wink at the Canadian, walking off down the hallway.

 

Benoit rolled his eyes at the other man's immaturity and went after the smaller wrestler.

 

* * *

 

 

Lita fixed the straps of her black dress. She had her hair up in a semi-neat bun. She glanced over at the SmackDown! diva who sported a pretty dark red dress with the curly locks falling down the shoulders. She was sometimes envious of Dawn's hair, but she had stopped comparing herself to other women a long time ago. There was no point in it and it only served to make her angry. This wasn't high school anymore, after all. "Where are they? They're almost twenty minutes late," she groused, looking at her watch.

 

"They haven't seen each other for a couple of weeks at least," Adam reminded the temperamental brunette, "I'm sure they're just showing how much they've missed each other."

 

Lita face-palmed herself while Dawn blushed.

 

Rey let out a dry cough, clearing his throat. "They're here," he announced.

 

Lita stomped to where the two men were entering the lobby. "About damn time! I said to meet here in fifteen minutes, not half an hour!"

 

Chris whispered something in Eddie's ear and the latino laughed.

 

"Honestly!" she fumed, crossing her arms.

 

"Relax, chica. We just got busy putting our stuff away," Eddie apologized, putting his hands up in surrender. He was clad in dark slacks and a fancy jacket covered his white dress shirt. A tie was awkwardly wrapped around the collar.

 

"After all of these years and you still can't put a tie on properly," Lita sighed, her temper fading now. She stepped in and began fixing her friend's tie.

 

"I'm gonna go talk to the guys. See ya," Chris murmured, planting a quick peck on his lover's cheek before heading over to where Rey and Adam were chatting with Dawn.

 

Lita finalized the loop and fixed the knot, her hands lingering on the latino's chest when she stepped back slightly. "There. All done," she murmured, smiling.

 

"Gracias," Eddie mumbled, grinning cheekily at the diva. "I'm gonna go get soda. Want anything?"

 

"No, thank you though," Lita declined, watching the wrestler weaved through the crowd towards the refreshment area. She remembered later regretting letting him out of her sight.

 

Eddie fought to get past several groups of people before he finally made it to the bar. "Coca Cola, please," he gasped out to the bartender.

 

"Come here much?"

 

 _Eh?_  He glanced over and saw a woman sipping a cup. "No. This is my first night here," he replied. Uneasiness prickled at the back of his neck, but he ignored it.

 

"That's wonderful, sugar. Maybe I can show you around the city," she purred, winking.

 

Eddie blushed and looked away. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm here with friends."

 

"Aw, that's a damn shame. Name is Amanda," she sighed, holding her hand out.

 

Eddie blinked, looking at her again. The lady was certainly pretty with the light brown hair flowing down and a nice smile, but there was something about her dark eyes that made his skin itch. "I'm Eddie," he murmured, shaking her hand. His drink was ready and he was about to leave when she called out to him.

 

"Why the rush? Stay and talk, I'm all by myself."

 

He hesitated. He wasn't comfortable with the looks she was giving him, but eventually good manners won over. "Alright. I can't stay for too long, I'm afraid," he sighed, sitting down on the seat next to her.

 

Amanda smirked. "That's okay, darling. I just want a quick chat. It's not too often that new people come by. 'Specially good looking ones," she drawled, taking another sip of her drink.

 

Eddie fought back the blush that was making its way across his face. "Uh, so what brings you here to the hotel if you're a local?" he asked, hastily changing the subject. It was awkward, but he didn't like the way she was eyeing him. He felt like a slab of meat under the hungry scrutiny.

 

"Eh, just need a breather. I'm too cooped up at home," Amanda replied, shrugging her shoulders, "You're one of them wrestlers, ain't ya? I've seen you on the tube."

 

"I guess so," Eddie murmured quietly. He was never the one for the spotlight, enjoying being invisible in public. He jumped when a hand caressed his thigh, almost spilling his coca cola.

 

"Ah, don't be so modest now. My husband is one of your biggest fans. He would freak if he found out I saw you here." she purred, stopping just shy of the inner thigh. It was true - Steve had been ecstatic when he discovered that SmackDown was stopping by their town for a show and after much research, he'd sent her here with a bunch of money and a little 'package' with one purpose. At first, she agreed just to humor her partner, but now she couldn't deny that this was fun.

 

Eddie scooted away from the woman, fighting the urge to bolt. The crazy look in the dark hazel eyes honestly frightened him. "Ah, I'm with s-someone right now," he stammered.

 

Amanda blinked and withdrew her hand. "Damn," she breathed.

 

Eddie let out a soft sigh of relief when the contact was broken. He was slightly bothered that Amanda would flirt like this when she was taken as well. His thoughts got interrupted when his name was called and he turned around, trying to peer through the crowd.

 

Amanda quickly seized the opportunity and plucked a couple of pills in the drink, stirring hastily to make sure they dissolved. Thankfully no one saw her, except for the bartender who gave her a disproving look. She flashed him a smile, making a mental note to leave a big tip, and she sat back down in her seat. She twirled with her hair when the chicano turned back to the table.

 

Eddie sipped his coke, glancing over at the woman. He was sure that it was his imagination but Amanda seemed to have a wild, maniac look about her. "You okay?" he asked politely.

 

"Mm? Yes, I'm fine," Amanda answered absently, watching with glee as he downed half the soda.

 

About ten minutes has passed and Eddie began feeling strange. His arms and legs felt like lead, and his head was starting to pound. He tried to stand up, but his legs gave out under him and he crashed to the ground. His movements were growing increasingly sluggish. "Wha..?" he slurred, confused. He was fine just a second ago. What the hell happened?

 

"Oh dear. You must be exhausted. Let's get you to your room," Amanda purred, slinging her purse's strap diagonally across her chest and hoisting the wrestler up on his feet then putting one arm over her shoulder. "Where are you staying at?" she murmured, dragging him to the elevator.

 

"Uh. 823."

 

She smirked and led him to the floor after the elevator ride. As hard as it was, she refrained from touching him in front of the camera that she knew was in the lift. "Where's your card, mm?" she murmured, shamelessly groping the front of his pants as she looked for the key, propping the swaying body against the wall next to the room door.

 

"Back pocket," Eddie mumbled, fighting to stay awake. He vaguely felt hands on him, but everything was spinning so fast that he couldn't focus. Then he had the strange sensation of falling and a body climbing on top of him. "Uh?"

 

"Shh, it'll be okay," Amanda shushed softly, unbuttoning his shirt and splaying her hands out on the torso. It had been a while since she had shared the night with someone and it was nice to feel flushed skin under her hands. "Just relax."

 

Eddie heard a faint purring sound and raised his head weakly to locate where it was coming from. Then cold air hit his legs when his pants were taken off. "What're y'doing?"

 

"Relax, love. One of your…..friends told me to treat you," Amanda lied, kissing softly on the stomach and starting to tug down the boxers.

 

"Chris? But why would he -?" Eddie started to protest, but a finger pressed itself against his lips.

 

"You can ask him yourself later. Shhh. Just go to sleep. Everything is going to be okay now," she cooed, petting him on the hair lightly. She would love to do this while he was awake, but he was complicating everything at the moment and she wasn't sure how much time she had.

 

Eddie relaxed, sleep instantly taking over him and strange dreams filling his mind.

 

Amanda pulled both the underwear and pants down till they were pooled around the ankles. She worked at taking the shoes off, tossing them across the floor.

 

Eddie twitched, his slumber being disturbed slightly when he felt fingers caressing his member. "Chris, g'way," he whined.

 

She paused in her stroking, the name throwing her off. She smirked, deciding to play along. "But I thought you like me touching you," she purred.

 

"Stop it. I wanna sleep," Eddie muttered, trying to turn on his side.

 

"Shhh….It's okay. Just stay still," Amanda hushed, moving her hands up to pin the shoulders.

 

Eddie grumbled, but did as he was told. A shiver raced up his spine when he felt a tongue massaging the skin of his neck. Sleepiness washed over him again, but then sharp pain woke him up when teeth dug in.

 

She quickly muffled the confused shout, covering the mouth with her hand while she sucked on the neck.

 

Eddie started to tremble, a whimper escaping from him. He didn't understand what was going on, why Chris was  _hurting_  him. He just wanted to sleep.

 

Amanda leaned back, admiring the bite she made on the neck. It was an absolute mess. A sliver of lust shot up through her and she laid down on top of the shaking body. "It's okay, babe," she reassured softly.

 

"Why're y'doing this? I don't r'mber pissin' y'off," Eddie mumbled, his words heavily slurred.

 

Amanda only hummed, kissing the cheek lightly. "Why don't you just be quiet and be a good boy for me," she murmured huskily.

 

Eddie frowned, but obeyed. His head was killing him and he could barely hear the soft words above the pounding.

 

She focused her attention back to the cock, a grin splitting across her face.

 

He let out a confused moan when warm wetness enveloped his flesh. He tried to move, but his legs were too heavy and he only managed a full-body flinch.

 

Amanda ignored the movements, knowing that he wasn't going anywhere. Not for several hours at least. After a few minutes of sucking, the cock was fully erected. She let out a satisfied grunt and pat the face. "Good thing about men is that you don't need to be 'in the mood' for you to be hard," she cooed, re-positioning herself.

 

Eddie became more and more puzzled when the warmth moistness returned. It felt so weird. "Wha..?"

 

She chuckled a bit at the bewilderment on the flushed face, wiggling a bit. It felt so nice to have a cock in her. It had been so long that she almost forgot what it felt like with her marriage slightly dry and boring. 

 

He winced at the motion. Despite the wetness, it was too raw. His member felt like it was being chafed open and rubbed against sandpaper.

 

Amanda quickly sped up, trying to keep her moans down. Her climax came far too soon in her opinion, but she had to wrapped this up as fast as she could. The erection had flagged almost as soon as she put it in her, but she had continued anyway. It was better than nothing. She rolled off, putting her thong back on. "Thank you," she purred, kissing him on the lips. She got up from the bed, taking her phone out of her purse and snapped a quick picture to show Steve later. She rolled her eyes, already picturing his drooling face.

 

Eddie had already passed out, sleep getting the better of him.

 

She tsked and started to pull the blanket over him. Then she paused. This didn't feel...completed. She pursued her lips, wondering if perhaps he had a cell on him as well. She walked over to where she had thrown the pants and dig through them, grinning in triumph when she felt the distinct shape of the phone in the front pocket. She quickly flipped it open, going to the camera. She aimed it at the sleeping man and clicked on the main button. Amanda saved the photo in the camera roll and closed the phone, putting it down on the tableside dresser. Making sure she looked presentable, she left the room and closed the door slightly. She skipped down the hallway, a little bounce in her steps, and she was happy that she decided to satisfy her husband's strange favor.

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Bitter Aftertaste

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Lita walked towards the room that Chris told her where he and Eddie were staying. It was almost 2:00 in the morning and she hadn't seen the latino for well over an hour. She hiccuped, giggling a little. She had a bit too much to drink. Her drunken stupor faded when she turned a corner and came across the room, the door slightly ajar. She knocked quietly. "Eddie?'

 

Silence.

 

Her concern growing, she pushed the door fully open and stepped inside. "Hey, you in here?" she called out again, her eyes straining to make out the dimly lit room. Then she spotted her friend curled up in the bed. "There you are! Wake up sleepyhead," she murmured, going over and shaking the sleeping man.

 

Eddie moaned and swatted the hands away, turning on his back.

 

Lita paused, worry washing over her more strongly now. The wrestler wasn't this tired when she saw him last. "Hey," she tried again.

 

"Whazzit?" Eddie slurred, struggling to fully wake up.

 

Biting her lip, she pressed the back of her hand against the forehead, alarmed at how flushed the skin was. "Honey? What happened?"

 

"Chris was actin' weird," Eddie mumbled.

 

Lita frowned. That didn't make sense; Chris had been with her and the group the whole time. "Eddie," she started to say.

 

"He was saying a bunch of stuff, but his voice was weird….he sounded like a w'man, and he bit me," he whined.

 

"Eddie, sweetie, you're not making any sense. Chris has been in the lobby for the past hour," she argued, pulling the blanket down and stopping just past the belly button when she saw the mess on the side of his neck.

 

"But if Chris wasn't h're, then who was?" Eddie protested, his eyelids growing heavy again.

 

"Don't fall asleep on me, hon. Who was the last person you talked to?"

 

"Some lady."

 

"Who? What was her name?" Lita persisted, feeling guilty when her friend's face pitched up slightly as if in pain, but she had to know.

 

"Don't r'mber. Amanda, I fink. She was crazy," Eddie muttered, his words slurring again. He tried to sit up, but then he flinched when the movement caused pain to shoot up from his groin.

 

"What's the matter?" she asked when he let out a groan, gently placing a hand on one shaking shoulder.

 

"It hurts," Eddie whined, closing his legs and bringing his knees up.

 

"What?"

 

Eddie scrunched his face and turned on his side.

 

"What do you mean? What hurts? Can you show me where….." Lita's questions died off when her friend curled up in a fetal position. The answer hit her with such force that she almost started to feel sick. _'Calm down. Calm down. Don't freak out.'_ Then Eddie's crying reached her ears.

 

"Why does it feel so raw? It hurts," he whimpered, curling up even tighter.

 

Lita took in a deep breath and sat down on the bed, rubbing his back gently. "Shh. Auntie Lita is here now, I promise it'll be okay. What happened after you talked to this Amanda?" she murmured, hoping that if she get the latino to talk, then he wouldn't be in as much pain.

 

"I was drinkin' coke when e'erything went hazy. I couldn't move. She took me here and….and started taking my clothes off, saying that Chris told her to do that," Eddie stumbled over his words, hiccuping. Suddenly, everything felt funny and he could barely hear anything past the rushing of air in his ears. "Then e'erything went black and when I woke up, someone was touching me and e'erything. I couldn't move. I didn't want it, but I couldn't stop …" his mumbling faded away when he passed out again, exhaustion crashing into him.

 

Lita fought to keep her composure, gritting her teeth. She will not cry. Not right now. Not here. She looked around the room, dismayed. This night was supposed to be fun, everybody laughing and having a good time. That was how it was supposed to go. Not  _this,_  it wasn't supposed to end like this - her best friend seemingly drugged and molested. She swallowed down the large lump that formed in her throat. Then she jumped when her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her dress. Taking it out, she realized Adam was calling her. "Yes?"

 

"Have you found him yet?"

 

"Yes, I have. Can you do me a giant favor?"

 

"Sure thing! Whatcha need?"

 

"Don't tell Chris. Make up something and please don't let him go to his room," Lita murmured.

 

"Okay, but may I ask why?"

 

"I..I can't tell right now. I promise I'll explain later. Send Rey here too."

 

"Sure. Hold on."

 

She waited while Adam yelled something off the line.

 

"Alright. He's on his way. I hope everything is okay."

 

"Me too. Me too. Thank you. I appreciate it."

 

"No problem. Bye."

 

"Bye," Lita hung up, sighing heavily. She took the clip out and let her hair fall down.

 

It wasn't long until Rey came in. He closed the door shut. "What's wrong? Adam said you need me."

 

"I think he's drugged."

 

Rey blinked. "That's quite an assumption," he murmured, raising an eyebrow.

 

"He said he was drinking his pop when everything became ….. 'hazy' as he called it," Lita explained, "and he's awfully lethargic. He was barely awake for not even five minutes before he passed out."

 

Rey frowned, watching the diva brushed a few strands of hair off of Eddie's forehead. "I might be wrong, but that sounds a lot like roofies."

 

"That's what I'm thinking too," Lita admitted quietly.

 

"If that's the case, then it might not be until tomorrow morning before the effects wear off."

 

"I know. What are we going to do, Rey? I don't know how Chris will react to all of this," she moaned, rubbing her neck tiredly.

 

Rey didn't answer. He hadn't told anyone about his uneasiness regarding the stout Canadian. He was honestly excited for Eddie; he was glad that his fellow latino found somebody to make him happy, but he wasn't sure if he approved of Chris. The man was short-tempered and often acted possessive over Eddie. He never said anything though, hoping that he was wrong. Chris may be a wonderful friend, but he honestly doubted that the wrestler was an appropriate lover.

 

Lita chewed the insides of her cheeks. This was a serious matter. She didn't want Chris finding out about this; she had a sinking suspicion that the man would blame Eddie. "I think we should have Chris stay with you guys for the night."

 

Rey only looked at her calmly. "What about tomorrow?"

 

"Well, like you said, hopefully whatever it is in his system will be out by then," she sighed, running her hand through her long hair.

 

"Alright. I'll try. It'll be hard convince him about Eddie, but I'm sure we'll manage," he murmured.

 

"Thank you," Lita sighed gratefully, hugging him.

 

Rey started to go to the door, opening it when Lita called out to him.

 

"Hey, um, I hate to ask but how do you, uh, fix a raw penis?" Lita asked, blushing. She didn't want to bring this up, but she didn't have a clue of how to help her friend. She wasn't ... intimately familiar of what she should do in this situation. It wasn't like this happened all the time.

 

Rey only blinked, but he didn't ask why she wanted to know. "I think a washcloth soaked with cold water will help. Keep it on there for about twenty minutes or so. If he and Chris keep any lube around, use that too, it'll help," he replied.

 

Lita pressed her lips together, nodding. "Alright. Thanks again."

 

He dipped his head to her and left. He had a sinking suspicion of why Lita would ask that, but he didn't want to press the issue. There was only so much he could take in before he lost it. The very thought of his best friend being hurt in any way was enough to make him see red.

 

She sighed, looking back on her friend. He was out for the night, that much she can tell. She went to the bathroom, soaking the washcloth with cool water. After she squeeze out the excess, she carried it back to the sleeping man. She pulled the blanket all the way down, blushing again. She never saw her friend naked and she felt uncomfortable, knowing that he would never let himself be this exposed and vulnerable to anyone. Anyone but Chris. Dabbing at the cock gently with the wet washcloth, she took care to press down ever so lightly. Despite her tenderness, Eddie cried out in his sleep and curled up again, dislodging the cloth. "Shhh. I'm sorry," she started to apologize, but then cut off when something caught her eyes. She took hold of the flaccid cock, guilt crashing into her when he whimpered. "I promise I won't take long," she shushed, examining the member in her hand. There was some….stickiness coating the length. She gingerly tapped at it and when she pulled her finger away, some sticky strands followed her. She brought the digit up to her nose, sniffing lightly. Horror, cold as ice, wrapped around her when she recognized the distinct scent. "That bitch!"

 

Eddie jerked awake. "Wha? What did I do?" he mumbled, confused. Dios, his head hurt.

 

Shit. Lita gently caressed his cheek. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to wake you up. You did nothing. You can go back to sleep now," she murmured quietly, crooning in a soft voice.

 

"Mmkay," he slurred, already falling asleep again.

 

She sat up and went to the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet and putting her head in her hands. She bet dollars to donuts that this 'Amanda' had sex with him while he was drugged and passed out. Hell, that wasn't even sex. It was more like rape. She exhaled sharply and sat back up. The situation just got even more looked back at her friend sleeping on the bed. She should have never let Eddie out of her sight, but wishing won't solve anything. She stood up and wiped her bottom, getting rid of the dirt. She walked back to the bed and laid down next to the SmackDown! wrestler, listening to him breathe. Deciding that she'll deal with the rest of the fallout tomorrow morning, she closed her eyes and soon fell asleep, her arm draped across Eddie's waist in a protective gesture.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie yawned, starting to wake up. He sat up and stretched, realizing that he was alone in the room. He frowned, trying to remember what happened last night, but his head was pounding too much for him to concentrate. "The hell?" he muttered groggily, rubbing his eyes. His entire body felt sore and his mouth was awfully dry, a … cottony taste seemed to be stuck there. He swallowed a few times, but the stickily sensation remained still. He shuffled out of the blanket, stopping when he saw that he was naked. A small burst of panic popped up, but he quickly squashed it down. He and Chris probably had a go at it last night and he just happened to forget about it. He picked up his clothes and dumped them in an empty duffle bag that he carried for dirty laundry. Snagging a clean pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a tank top, he headed towards the shower. He didn't know why the room was barren; Chris hardly ever left his side whenever they were together. Ignoring the slight dread that pooled in his stomach, he turned the water on, enjoying the hot stream that trickled down his hands. Humming softly, he stepped in and quickly washed himself. Pain, sharp and instantaneous, flared up from his neck when his fingers came across what felt like a bite mark. He froze. Chris never bit him, so why - why was _this_  on his neck? He jumped when the door opened and shut loudly.

 

"Eddie? You in here?"

 

 _Crap._  Eddie cursed inwardly. "Oye! I'm taking a quick shower. Were you here with me last night?" he asked hesitantly.

 

"Nah. Copeland and Mysterio forced me to spend the night with them. You had this whole room to yourself. Why? Is something wrong?" Chris replied, concern coloring his voice.

 

"Ah, no! I'm - everything's just peachy! I must have slept too much," Eddie lied, trying not to hyperventilate. If Chris wasn't here with him last night, then who was? The bathroom door opened, startling him and he quickly clamped a hand over the bite. If Benoit saw it…..

 

The shower curtains receded and Chris smiled at his lover, not seeing the strained grin on the other man's face. "Can I join you" he asked cheerfully.

 

"Um. I'm actually finished. We can do this some other time. Sorry," Eddie mumbled.

 

"Aww, fine. At least get out and save the hot water for me," Chris whined, pouting and sulking off to the bedroom.

 

A twinge of guilt hit Eddie, but he pushed it aside. He couldn't let the Canadian see the mark. He turned the water off and quickly put his clothes on, not even drying himself off. Just as he put the towel back on the rack, the door opened again. He went rigid.

 

Benoit frowned. "Where did that come from?"

 

"Um. I'm not sure. I think it's a rash or something," Eddie lied, holding his breath. It was stupid, but he desperately hoped that Chris would believe him. He genuinely didn't know how this bite came along.

 

Chris glared at the latino sardonically. "I'm not an idiot. I know a hickey when I see one," he growled, his face hardening, "Did you seriously fucked behind my back last night…...on our anniversary night..?"

 

Eddie backpedaled away from the bigger wrestler. "No! I honestly don't know where it came from! I thought it was from you," he stammered. His head snapped to the right from where Chris backhanded him. His vision swayed and there was faint ringing in his ears. Then he was being dragged over to the bed.

 

"You have got to be fucking kidding me. I changed myself for the better for you. I try to make you happy, and this is how you fucking repay me?!" Chris yelled, his anger rising as he yanked his friend's pants off.

 

"Ch-Chris, wait! I -" Eddie's protest was cut off as the Canadian slapped him again, this time with more force. Blood welled up in his mouth in addition to the cottony taste and he fought to keep the nausea at bay. He froze when Benoit flipped him over on his stomach and took his boxers off. "What are you doing?!" he yelped, jerking forward when he felt hands prying his cheeks apart. Raw terror, unlike any he'd felt before, shot through him. He didn't understand it - he never felt threatened by Chris, but this anger and the way he was being manhandled made him truly frightened. There was a sort of haziness at the back of his mind, like déjà vu, that made the fear worse.

 

"Stay still. I'm gonna check you."

 

The cold command caused him to go rigid. He buried his face in the mattress, whimpering and trembling when two digits rammed in, scissoring around. "Stop, please. It hurts," he whined, starting to twist. The fear increased, making it harder to breathe and he gasped when the nails tore into the flesh.

 

Chris let out a snarl and used his free hand to push the back of his lover's head further against the bed, muffling the pleas.

 

Eddie let out a sigh of relief when Benoit's fingers exited out of him, but then the relief transformed into sharp pain when something smacked his ass with such force that he bit his tongue. "Ow! What the fuck are you -" his exclamation died off as he was spanked three more times. By the fourth hit, he was in tears. "Stop! You're hurting me! Please, I can't…" he choked out. The assault halted and he gave a shaky sob. He was turned violently on his back and his friend's face loomed in with fury.

 

" _I'm_  hurting  _you?!_ " Chris snapped, jabbing an accusatory finger at the man who shrunk from him. "I'm not the one who cheated on our fucking anniversary night!"

 

Eddie shook his head weakly. "Chris! I s-swear I don't remember what happened last night. The last thing I can recall is drinking my coke and then everything got hazy. Please. I wouldn't cheat on you. Ever," he rasped, tears spilling down his cheeks as more sobs racked through his chest.

 

Chris paused. "If you're telling the truth, then you wouldn't mind if I search through your bags, now would you?" he growled.

 

Eddie looked at the RAW wrestler in panic. "Wait!"

 

Chris ignored the cry, unzipping the bag and tossing out the items.

 

Eddie pulled his boxers back on and stood up, staggering a little. Dios, was his ass sore. "Chris, wait!"

 

Benoit pulled out a small, gray box and studied it suspiciously. "What is this?"

 

"It's a gift. For you. An anniversary gift," Eddie replied, looking at the Canadian warily.

 

Chris glared at the latino and opened the box, seeing the two gold rings. He picked one up. "This one has my name on it."

 

"Yeah. I thought you would like it. I know it's not fancy, but …" Eddie's mumbling faded when Chris put the ring back in the box, closing it.

 

Benoit turned around and shoved the gift at Eddie. "It's stupid. You've always been cheap. I'm sick of you."

 

Eddie flinched, the words sending daggers at him. "I..I can take it back and get something else if you don't like it," he spoke haltingly, hurt washing over him.

 

Chris barked out a harsh laugh. "You just don't get it, do you? It's over, dumbass. We're done. I'm not going to date a partner who lies and cheats." He packed up his own bags and put the straps over his shoulders. He walked to the door. "Oh, and by the way," he added, sneering, "you're horrible in bed. I had to use my own imagination to just get off." he slammed the door shut, not seeing the way Eddie's face fell. He didn't know why he said that to his former friend, well aware it was a lie. Call it poetic justice. The younger man hurt him, so he might as well returned the favor. He nearly walked into Lita and ignored her calling out to him, continuing his way down to the lobby.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**  
  
**


	6. Misconceptions

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Lita stared after Benoit as the Canadian stormed off. What was biting him? Then fear took over her and she quickly trotted over to room 823, opening the door. "Eddie?!" she called out frantically and saw her friend sitting on the bed. She relaxed momentarily. She wasn't sure what she was expecting at the moment, but she was just glad that her friend didn't seemed to be injured. She became worried, however, when she noticed that he looked shell-shocked. "Hey, you okay?" she asked quietly, realizing that he was fiddling with a box.

 

"He didn't like it. I offered to take it back in exchange for something else, but he didn't want anything…"

 

Her heart broke at the softness of his voice; he was acting as if he was getting scolded by his mother. "Did you give it to him?"

 

Eddie shook his head. "No, he found it. He said that it was stupid and that I'm cheap," he mumbled, feeling numbed.

 

Lita sighed and sat down next to him, giving her best friend a half-hug. "I'm sure he'll come around. He won't stay grumpy forever," she murmured soothingly.

 

Eddie shrugged, looking crestfallen. "He won't come around."

 

"What makes you so sure?"

 

"Cuz he broke up with me."

 

She stared at the latino in shock. "What?! Why?" she asked, flustered.

 

"He thinks I cheated on him, but I didn't. I don't even remember what happened last night," he muttered, looking away.

 

"But why would he think that you cheated?"

 

"Because of this," Eddie pointed to the bite on his neck.

 

Lita blinked, cursing herself. She had forgotten about the damn hickey. "Oh, shit," she sighed heavily.

 

"I honestly don't remember anything," he insisted, panicking at the weary look on the diva's face. If she turned her back on him...  _'Was I really that big of a puta last night?'_

 

She gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I believe you. I just don't know how the whole thing became this big of a mess."

 

Eddie slouched slightly, suddenly looking exhausted "I dunno either."

 

Lita's face softened a fraction. "He isn't going to be mad at you forever. I'm sure of that. Let's go to my room, I'm sure everything will turn out alright," she murmured, dragging him by his arm.

 

Eddie followed the dark brunette, keeping his head down. Everything felt so surreal. He racked his brain, trying to remember, but all he recalled was his drink and then blackness.

 

Lita glanced over her shoulder, almost wincing at the lost expression. "Come on. You can sit on the couch," she spoke quietly, geturing inside.

 

Eddie obediently followed, cringing as he sat on the cushion of the sofa. His ass still hurt from the spanking earlier and his ears burned with shame. Perhaps he did deserve that.

 

"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing the flash of pain that split across the wrestler's face.

 

"Yeah. Just a little sore," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

 

Lita frowned, concerned. "What happened?"

 

"Stuff."

 

She stifled a sigh, well aware that her friend wasn't comfortable with talking about these kinds of matters. She knelt down in front of him and took his hands in hers. "Hey. You can talk to me, you know."

 

Eddie glanced at the diva shyly and shrugged. "I woke up and I was alone in the hotel room so I took a shower. Then Chris came in and he saw the bite when I was getting dressed. Then things kinda got out of control," he explained.

 

"What do you mean 'got out of control?'"

 

He looked away, blushing faintly. "Just stuff."

 

Normally, Lita would have gotten impatient with the way Eddie was putting up a wall, but so much had happened within the past day. Her chest tightened at the blank expression; it was as if he didn't know what to do now. She gently cupped his cheek. "I think it was stupid of him to think you cheated all because of a bite mark," she commented softly.

 

"But how come I can't remember anything?"

 

She hesitated. She wanted to tell him what she thought happened, but his instability stopped her. She wasn't sure if he could handle the news. "I don't know," she admitted half-truthfully. She still suspected it was roofies, but without any solid evidence, all she can do is speculate. Though that was most likely what's happened.

 

Eddie shifted a bit, growing confused. It didn't make any sense. "But if I did cheat, at least it wasn't with a guy, or he didn't go all the way anyhow," he muttered half-absently. The thought did little to comfort him. Whatever it was, it was bad enough for Chris to strike out at him.

 

Lita started, staring at the latino in surprise. "How did ya figure that?"

 

"Chris checked."

 

She blinked at the flat reply. "He checked…?" she echoed, puzzled. Then she froze when her dear friend looked away, as if ashamed. She exhaled sharply, trying not to let her anger get the best of her.

 

"He didn't hurt me or anything," Eddie mumbled, sensing the storm that was brewing inside the diva.

 

Lita sucked in a deep breath and let it out softly. "I'm still not comfortable with him doing that. Did he ask you before he 'checked?'" she spat out, her voice biting. This was not something that bastard can simply do, not after her friend had been through.

 

For fuck's sake, Eddie was _raped_ , and all the Canadian did was further -

 

Her thoughts got disrupted when Eddie winced and shook his head, looking down.

 

Unbridled rage washed over her and she stood up, pacing around the room, fuming.

 

"It's not that big of a deal…."

 

She whirled around and glared at her best friend who shrank under her wrath. "Not that big of a deal? NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!" she snapped, then took in a sharp breath, trying to lower her voice, "He can't just pull that shit, not without asking you first. It's tantamount to assault -" her growl abruptly stopped when she realized what she said.

 

Eddie flinched and wouldn't meet the woman's furious gaze. "But I didn't say no, so it's not like...he didn't…." he protested, stumbling over his words, tears building up in his eyes. He didn't like it when people yell at him.

 

Lita pinched her nose, cursing inwardly. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to holler," she apologized, feeling horrible. She was making the situation worse.

 

He shrugged. "It's okay," he muttered in a small voice. He just wanted to curl up and hide under the blanket, but he didn't want to arose any more questions from the diva.

 

She bit her lip. She had to tell him now; even if she was wrong about the roofies, the effort of keeping quiet was driving her insane. Squatting back down, sighing. "I have to tell you something."

 

Eddie glanced at her, confusion evident on his face.

 

"The reason you don't remember anything is because you were probably drugged."

 

The soft words cause him to freeze in shock. _Drugged?!_  "But…..what?"

 

Lita looked away briefly, trying to keep her own tears at bay. "You were gone about an hour during the party last night. I got worried and started looking for you. You were in your room asleep without any clothes on. You were covered in the blanket, don't worry," she added hastily, seeing the panicked look on his face.

 

"If..If I was drugged, then who..?"

 

"I don't know. I think it was a woman. I saw a pair of lingerie," she lied. If he knew that she had touched him in that intimate spot, it would only make him panic completely.

 

Eddie flinched at the word. "B-But I don't remember…." he argued weakly. That couldn't be true. Why would this, out of all things, happen to him?

 

"I tried to talk to you, but you were so out of it. You weren't making much sense. All I managed to get out of you was that the last person you talked to was Amanda….I think she was the one who might have…." her rambling died off when she saw the latino's face paled.

 

_Amanda…._

 

Suddenly, memories of last night flashed in his mind and he crossed his arms, shivering. He remember the woman with the pretty hair and crazy eyes. Recalled how he collapsed after drinking his soda. The rest was a blur but he could vaguely remember hands touching him, taking his pants off and -

 

A shaky whimper slipped out and a shudder rippled through him. "Sh-She did all that?" he gasped, feeling sick to his stomach as goosebumps prickled along his skin.

 

_"Why don't you just be quiet and be a good boy for me?"_

 

_"Thank you."_

 

Bile rose up to the back of his throat and he quickly pushed it back down, his body shaking.

 

Lita blinked back the tears and leaned in to hug her friend, feeling the tremors that raced through him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I came sooner so I could have stopped it. If I ever find her, she's going to wish she was dead once I get my hands on her sorry ass," she swore ferociously. her arms around the wrestler's body tightening a bit.

 

Eddie buried his face in the crest of the diva's shoulder, trying his hardest to not cry. No wonder Chris was so furious. "He was right," he mumbled, shame wrapping around him.

 

"What?" Lita asked, pulling back slightly.

 

"I did cheat on him after all then."

 

She gasped angrily and tilted his chin up so they were eye-to-eye. "Did you ask her to drug you or touch you?"

 

Eddie cringed and shook his hand.

 

"Then it wasn't cheating. Cheating means that you consciously decided to go out and have an affair behind his back. You didn't do that. You didn't want what she was forcing onto you." she insisted.

 

"But-"

 

"No buts. It wasn't your fault, Eddie. You couldn't have seen this coming," she whispered, offering a weak smile. She hugged her friend again, relieved that he wasn't trembling anymore. "Tell you what, I'll go find Chris and tell him what happened. Once he knows the truth, he shouldn't be mad," she offered lightly.

 

Eddie glanced at Lita in surprise. "Why would you want to do that?"

 

She frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

 

"I've seen the way you looked at him. I know you don't like him, at least you don't seem to think we should be dating."

 

Now it was Lita's turn to be surprised. She hadn't realized the latino was that inquisitive. "That may have been true once, but I've also seen how happy you've looked. I haven't seen you this happy before you guys started going out. I don't want that to fall apart due to a misunderstanding," she explained softly.

 

Eddie looked at the brunette, sensing that she was telling the truth. He relaxed and nodded. "Okay. I don't know where he was going though," he sighed tiredly.

 

She smiled and hugged him yet again. "Cheer up! I'll find him. Just stay here. Once I talk sense into him, I'll bring him over and you guys can be friends again. Sounds good?"

 

He hesitated then gave a small nod. Uneasiness churned in his stomach. Even so, he doubted Chris would forgive him for such a clumsy mistake, but if the man would take him back then that would be enough.

 

She grinned widely and walked out of the door, grabbing her phone. "I'll see you soon then. I promise I won't take long!"

 

The door shut quietly and Eddie laid back on the bed, exhaling sharply. The memories assaulted him again and he flinched, turning on his side and curling up in a ball, tears finally sliding down his face. Why did this have to happen...?

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Lita barged into the lobby area once she got out of the elevator. Despite her misgivings towards the Canadian, she couldn't let his and Eddie's relationship end like this. She spotted the man. "Chris!"

 

Benoit turned from the check-out counter, recognizing the brunette. "Can I help you?"

 

Lita paused to catch her breath and gestured the wrestler to wait. "I need to talk to you. It's about Eddie," she gasped out, panting.

 

Chris's face hardened. "That's none of your business," he muttered, grabbing his bag and walking towards the door.

 

She grabbed his arm and forced him to face her. "Yes it is. Will you listen to me?" She spat. She knew the other man was technically right - that this was strictly between him and Eddie, but she would be damned if she let him leave without at least hearing her out.

 

Knowing that the diva won't let him go if he didn't do what she said, he sighed and nodded. "Fine."

 

"Good," Lita murmured, dropping her voice down to a whisper, "He didn't cheat on you."

 

Chris arched one eyebrow up. "What makes you so confident about that?"

 

She bit on her lip and looked around to make sure nobody else was listening to their conversation before leaning in to hush in his ear, "Because he was raped." It was hard to get the words out; it felt like a rock had lodge itself in her throat.

 

Chris blinked and stared at her in incredulous. "Excuse me?" There was no way he didn't mishear her. _'Rape? Don't be ridiculous! Eddie isn't that helpless.'_

 

Frustrated, she snapped, "You heard me." What was so difficult to understand about this?

 

"How do you know it was that?"

 

 _'Shit.'_  It was her turn to pause. She doubt it was a good idea to tell the Canadian exactly how she found out. "You're just going to have to trust me on this, okay?"

 

Chris narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

 

"Look, he really does love you. He wouldn't cheat on you!" She persisted, trying to get through the Canadian's thick head.

 

"Yeah, he said that too."

 

"So, what's the problem here?"

 

"The problem is that it seems he can't be by himself for more than five minutes without getting in trouble," Chris grumbled, crossing his arms.

 

Lita glared at the man and slapped him hard across the face.

 

The lobby fell silent, other people staring at the two wrestlers.

 

One of the clerks cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me, but could you two take your disagreements somewhere else, please?"

 

Lita ignored the desk worker and continued glaring at the jerk. "He's scared, you know. He needs you and yet all you can do is complain," she growled, her voice ice cold, and stomped back towards the elevator.

 

"Don't pin the blame on me!"

 

She whirled around angrily. "That's not what I'm trying to do, you deaf bastard! I'm telling you that you should be there for your friend and help him out, not leave him in the dust," she yelled back harshly.

 

Benoit paused, surprised at the outburst. "Hold on," he called out gently when the diva started to walk off again.

 

"What?!"

 

"Can I go with you? I'd like to talk to him," he mumbled sheepishly.

 

"Do whatever you want," Lita growled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Eddie paced around the room nervously, wondering if perhaps Lita hadn't been successful in talking to Chris. Then a quick knock on the door startled him.

 

To his relief, the Canadian was with the red brunette, but he hid his smile - he doubted Chris was happy to see him. His suspicion was confirmed when his friend wouldn't even look at him.

 

"Well, I've explained everything. Now you two sort it out yourselves and talk to each other," Lita muttered, walking out and closing the door behind her.

 

Uncomfortable silence blossomed between the two men and Eddie scuffled his feet shyly on the carpet. He didn't know what to say, especially after what happened earlier.

 

Benoit crossed his arms and looked in the general direction of his lover. "Is it true?"

 

Eddie flinched and glanced down. "Yeah. I couldn't stop her, but -"

 

"Wait hold on, 'her?' You're telling me it was a woman who did that to you? You actually let a girl take this much advantage of you?" Benoit cut off the latino, finally staring at his best friend. A harsh laugh escaped and soon he was guffawing.

 

Eddie couldn't meet Chris's eyes. Forcing a smile, he chuckled along. "Kinda funny, I guess," he said flatly, feeling weary. It hurt him a little at how quickly his lover dismissed the incident, acting as if it was his fault. _'Maybe it is my fault. I should have done something.'_

 

"More like fucking hysterical. Geez, you shoulda told me in the first place. Here I was, worrying that it was serious," Benoit snickered, shaking his head ruefully.

 

Eddie swallowed down a lump, feeling a bit stung, but he ignored it. He wasn't about to ruin the man's good mood.

 

But then Chris grabbed him in a hug and he let out a surprised yelp.

 

"I'm glad to hear. Though you should be ashamed of yourself for letting a woman out of all people to get to you like that," Benoit snorted, planting a peck on the smaller wrestler's cheek.

 

Eddie's smile became strained and he fought the urge to recoil. He didn't know why these intimate gestures made him want to flee.

 

"Come on, let go back to our room and forget about this whole nonsense," Benoit murmured, letting his voice turn low and husky, and trailing his hand down to the small of the back.

 

Forgetting how to breathe, Eddie hastily suppressed a panic attack that was building rapidly in his chest. The air was oppressive, hot and heavy, and yet his body felt cold. Everything felt too tight and uncomfortable. He couldn't hold back a shiver, but thankfully Chris mistaken it for something else. He didn't have it in his heart to tell his friend that he wasn't in the mood - he was too terrified of setting off the man again. He pushed down the feeling of dread and turned to face the Canadian, his smile falsely bright. "In a hurry, ese? What's wrong with taking our time?"

 

Benoit smirked and winked suggestively. "You know what they say: make up sex is the best sex," he purred, tilting the younger man's chin up and leaning in to kiss hungrily.

 

In that one moment, before Eddie could think, he instinctively stiffened and lashed out; his fist catching Chris squarely in the jaw.

 

Benoit backed off, cupping the spot where the latino hit him. "What the fuck was that for?"

 

"Oh crap. I'm sorry. I-I don't know what I did that. Sorry," Eddie stammered, flustering helplessly.

 

"Jesus. That was a good hit. If you want to be aggressive, just say so," Benoit grumbled, rubbing his sore jaw.

 

"I don't want to be aggressive," Eddie mumbled in a small voice. If anything, he just wanted to be left alone. If the Canadian was going to get intimate with him, he rather lock himself in the bathroom and just tune the world out.

 

Benoit paused and then shrugged dismissively. "You sure are acting strange today, but whatever. Come on, weirdo, let's go," he muttered, beckoning towards the door.

 

Eddie nodded and followed the man obediently. He honestly didn't know why he had lashed out - it was just in the moment when Chris kissed him that terror washed over him and he had acted without realizing it.

 

They bumped into Lita in the hallway.

 

"Hey guys! Everything good now?" She asked carefully, getting a nod from both men in reply. She noticed the bruise that was starting to color the jawline of the Canadian. "What happened to your face?"

 

"Eddie went a little crazy on me, heh," Benoit explained with a chuckle, grinning as he slapped his lover playfully on the back.

 

Eddie flinched at the unexpected force and stumbled forward, straightening himself up quickly. A faint blush spread across his face from embarrassment at how easily he lost his balance.

 

"Is that so? Well, behave boys. Don't want to have to explain to Vince where all these little injuries came from, hmm?" She commented dryly, glancing at the latino in concern. She hated how nervous he looked.

 

"We'll keep that in mind. See ya around. Come on, Eddie," Benoit chirped, tugging the smaller man towards their room.

 

She watched them go with uneasy eyes. The whole situation made her stomach coil. She knew something was wrong, knew it from the rigid way Eddie held himself, but she couldn't put her figure on it. Gut feeling can only take her so far. Sighing, she went down the hallway towards Adam's and Rey's room.

 

Rey answered the door at the first knock, recognizing Lita. "Hey, something wrong?" He asked quietly, sending the inner turmoil.

 

"Aw shit. I told Chris what had happened last night."

 

His eyes hardened. "Why would you do that?" He growled.

 

"I don't know. He thought Eddie cheated on him and Eddie was devastated and the whole damn thing blew out of proportion. I thought I would clear up some things," Lita explained.

 

Rey sighed and scratched his neck. "I still think that was a bad idea, but what's done is done. Is there a reason why you came to me?"

 

"I think that something is not quite right. I don't know. I have this feeling that Chris isn't aware or even mindful of the effects that last night might have on Eddie," she mumbled.

 

"What? You think he's gonna treat Eddie badly or something?"

 

"I dunno. I hope not, but I don't know what to think, Rey. I really don't," she groaned wearily, running her hand through her long, dark red hair.

 

Rey blinked, frowning. "If he does anything to him, I can't promise I'll be able to restrain myself," he muttered.

 

She glanced at the Mexican in surprise. "You? Violent? Really?" Rey was one of the most gentlest people she'd ever met.

 

He just looked at her calmly. "I consider Eddie my hermano. I won't stand by idle while he's getting hurt under my nose, Amy."

 

Lita wasn't expecting him to call her by her real name. She only stood there while he went back into his room, shutting the door. She took in a deep breath and walked back into her own room, feeling drained. The whole morning had been taxing to say the least.

 

Laying down on the mattress, she stared at the ceiling. She hasn't realized how protective Rey was, but then again, was that really so surprising? The two chicanos were close, their bond just as tight as the one Eddie and Chris share, if not more. She hoped she was wrong about her suspicions - hoped that everything really was okay between the two men.

 

She really did.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. The Distance Between Hearts

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie stumbled into the bedroom, tripping over his own feet. He stiffened when hands grabbed his hips to keep from falling. It triggered a memory of Amanda stripping his pants off and he let out a strangled gasp, shivering violently.

 

Chris became concerned when he felt his lover tense up. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

 

Eddie ignored the burst of panic that hit him. "Um, no. Sorry. I'm still kind of freaked out about last night," he admitted softly.

 

Chris blinked at that admission. "Why?"

 

Biting down on his lip, Eddie shrugged. "I dunno. I just am," he mumbled, rubbing his shoulder in a subconscious attempt to console himself.

 

Chris rolled his eyes and sighed. "Geez, this day is going to suck," he grumbled.

 

Eddie flinched at the tone. "Sorry."

 

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it."

 

Feeling guilty, he walked to the bed and sat down, fumbling with his fingers nervously as he watched the Canadian pace around the room.

 

An idea popped in his head and Chris faced the latino brightly. "I know what'll cheer you up!"

 

Huh? Eddie glanced up at the man who came towards him. "What are you talking -" his question was cut off as lips captured his own. He froze up as he was pushed down onto his back. As soon as the kiss was broken, he let out a quiet whimper. "What are you doing?!"

 

"I thought this might help you relax," Chris murmured, his hands pushing the shirt up. Surprise crashed into him when tears started to form in his friend's eyes.

 

"Ch-Chris, I appreciate the gesture, but it's too soon," Eddie mumbled, flinching when fingers trailed down to the waistline of his pants. "Please, can't we do this some other time?" he choked out.

 

Benoit groaned and backed off. "Fine."

 

Eddie swallowed and didn't look at the other the wrestler. He pulled his shirt back down and sat up, trembling slightly.

 

"Let me get this right, you're telling me you need time?"

 

He winced at the disbelief lining the words. "I'm just not ready right now," he muttered. He felt horrible for pushing his lover away, but he couldn't simply stand any touches.

 

Benoit rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're pathetic, you know that? I'll give you a couple of hours," he groused.

 

"That's not enough!"

 

"What the hell you mean?! It was a girl who did this to you! You weren't beaten up or shit. The hickey is the only thing she left on you," he snapped, glaring at the smaller man who shrank from him.

 

"B-But," Eddie started to argue, but then he was quickly backhanded. "What the fuck?" he glared at the Canadian, his cheek stinging.

 

"You owe me this," Chris hissed, crossing his arms.

 

"Okay, first of all, I don't owe you shit. I was fucking drugged and she -"

 

"I don't give two fucks what she did. It's your fault it happened in the first place!" he yelled.

 

Eddie flinched and looked down, shame wrapping around him.

 

"Honestly, you're a handful. You're lucky I'm even giving this another chance. You have a few hours to get over it or I'm out, and I ain't coming back this time," Chris sighed, going to the bathroom to take a shower.

 

Eddie exhaled sharply. He didn't blame the man for being dismissive. He'd heard stories of people who went through what he had, and he remembered them talking about how they felt scared all the time afterwards. But all he felt was overwhelming embarrassment. Ignoring the sinking pool of unease that tightened in his stomach, he laid back down on the bed. Maybe things will improve between them if he slept for a bit.

 

Chris dried himself off and put on a change of clothes. Feeling refreshed and clean now, he walked back in the bedroom. He saw the latino who was sound asleep on the bed. Good. A few shut eyes should calm his lover down some. A spike of guilt shot up through him when the bruised cheek with the distinct handprint caught his attention. He shouldn't have lashed out. He just didn't understand why the incident left his friend so rattled. Pursuing his lips, he decided to give Eddie two days instead.

 

A few hours later, Eddie woke up, feeling a slightly better. His mouth was finally free of that bizarre, dry cotton taste. He glanced over and saw Chris who was reading the newspaper. He tensed, wondering if the Canadian was still upset with him.

 

Benoit looked up from the article and winced at the blatant fear on the latino's face, knowing he was responsible for that reaction. "Hey, I want to apologize for yelling earlier. How does a couple of days sound? Is that good enough for you?" he murmured quietly.

 

Eddie blinked, surprise washing over him. He hadn't expect the bigger wrestler to change the offer. He quickly closed his jaw when he realized he was staring at Chris open-mouthed. "Um, that'd be nice, thanks," he replied, lowering his gaze. Truthfully, he didn't know if he would fully recover in two days, but it was better than nothing. He wasn't going to protest, he didn't have the energy for another fight.

 

Benoit smiled faintly and walked over to the younger man to place a soft kiss on the forehead.

 

Eddie leaned in the warmth. He missed this - missed the gentle kindness that Chris showed him before last night. His breathing hitched and the next thing he knew, he was clutching Chris' shirt and crying.

 

Benoit was frozen in shock, not expecting this. He cleared his throat awkwardly and tapped the man's shoulder. "Hey." He didn't know what to do - emotional moments weren't his forte.

 

Eddie didn't understand why he was breaking down, but he couldn't stop the tears spilling down his face. He was just tired of it all. He wanted things to go back the way they were before he had ran into that damn woman.

 

Impatience shot through Benoit and he pushed the latino away from him. "Stop crying. You're a man, not a boy," he snapped.

 

The words stopped Eddie cold. He hiccuped and glanced at his best friend. "Wh-What?"

 

"Men don't cry, remember? You have nothing to be upset about," Chris muttered gruffly.

 

Eddie flinched and looked away, wiping the tears off of his face. Heavy embarrassment wrapped around him in a thick blanket. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me," he mumbled.

 

Chris snorted in derision. "Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

 

A slight spark of anger lit up in Eddie, but it quickly died off. It was his own fault for not handling the situation better.

 

"Anyways, you got two days to get yourself together, okay?"

 

He gave a small nod, not meeting the harsh blue eyes. The man's coldness and aloof attitude hurt him. He knew the event from last night was easily preventable, but he was hoping for support.

 

But then again, all of this wouldn't have happened in the first place if he had stopped Amanda. He really needed to shape up. He stiffened when the mattress dipped and strong arms wrapped around him. "Chris?" he squeaked.

 

Benoit nuzzled against the neck, pinning the man down and pecking the jawline lightly.

 

"You said two days. What are you doing?" Eddie murmured, trying to keep his voice from cracking. His body was starting to go into a panic overdrive and he barely restrained from pushing the Canadian off of him. It was only yesterday that he craved the man's touches. Now, they only serve to instill fear and disgust inside.

 

Chris paused, blinking at the interruption. "I was referring to sex. Kisses and this don't count. What's wrong?"

 

Eddie gnawed on the inside of his cheek, averting his eyes. "Um…"

 

"Are you not okay with this either? Seriously?"

 

He winced, bracing himself for a slap, but there was none to come. He watched in shock as the Canadian got off of the bed in a huff and grabbed a case, heading to the door. "Where are you going?"

 

Chris turned around and glanced coldly at his lover. "You're pissing me off. I'm going to stay in Rey and Adam's room again. You can have the night to yourself to recover," he snarled, his tone scathing. He felt a grim sense of satisfaction at the flinch that went across his friend's face. "It's clear that you don't appreciate my efforts to help you," he added snarky.

 

Eddie stiffened at that, dismay washing over him. "No, it's not that, it's just…" his protest died off when the the door opened. "Please," he whispered, not caring how pathetic he sounded. Tears started to prickle the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry, don't leave, please," he pleaded softly. He suddenly didn't care. Let Chris touch him, he didn't care. He just wanted to not be alone. He needed someone to be here with him.

 

Chris hesitated for a moment before snorting and stepping outside in the hallway. "I'll be back in two days. Enjoy yourself," he muttered, slamming the door shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Benoit flipped through the channels on the TV in Rey and Adam's room. He could feel Rey's eyes burning a hole on the back of his neck. He sensed the latino was mad at him, but he didn't bother asking the man. It was already awkward and complicated enough as it was. He recalled Adam's surprised face and the suspicion on Rey's when he asked to stay the night again. He was well aware that the masked Mexican wasn't particularly fond of him, but he didn't really care. He didn't exist to please everyone. He made a mental note to tell Eddie to get their friends off of their back. After all, relationships were private, and no one, especially these people, had any business of what went on in the bedroom.

 

Rey held his glare on the Canadian. The bastard's excuse of "Eddie wanted space" had to be complete bull. He knew Eddie, knew that his best friend didn't like to be alone, not at night. He snorted when Chris continued ignoring him and stood up, heading towards the mini kitchen where Adam was making popcorn.

 

Copeland looked behind his shoulder, not the slightest bit surprised when he saw the scowl on Mysterio's face. The latino had been in a foul mood ever since Benoit came in a few hours ago. "A penny for your thought," he murmured, trying to light the tensed atmosphere. It was so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. It felt like a fight would break out any moment now.

 

Rey shrugged, crossing his arms. "I don't have much to say. I'm just pissed off and a little worried about Eddie," he grumbled.

 

Adam blinked. "Why?" he asked curiously, a little baffled. He didn't see a reason why anyone would be concerned about the man.

 

Rey paused. It seemed that the RAW wrestler wasn't aware of what had happened last night. "I just am, okay?" he mumbled.

 

Adam frowned thoughtfully before laughing half-heartedly. "You've always been a worrywart. Eddie can take care of himself. If there's an issue, he can handle it himself," he spoke reassuringly, getting the bag out of the microwave and pouring the content in the bowl.

 

"Yeah, I know. I'll talk to him for a bit tomorrow before we head out on the road again," Rey sighed, scratching his neck tiredly.

 

"Sucks that we can only stay here for a few days. I hope we get a vacation soon," Copeland complained lightly.

 

"Knowing McMahon, that's unlikely," Rey interjected wryly, grabbing a handful of the buttery popcorn. It seemed that only Lita shared his concern for the well-being of their friend, but he kept that thought to himself. Adam didn't see what he saw, so he couldn't blame the blond Canadian for being flippant. He let out a long-suffering groan. He hoped things get better soon.

 

The way it is now, something was bound to blow up.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie broke down, losing his composure and hugging one of the pillows tightly while he cried and cried until he was too exhausted. A few hiccups popped out of his raw throat and he sniffed, staring miserably at the wall. He didn't blame Chris for not wanting to stay the night, but …. he didn't want to be alone.

 

Not with the memories still assaulting him, taunting him ruthlessly. He whimpered quietly and clutched the pillow with more force.

 

_'Get yourself together, you idiota.'_

 

He felt pathetic. He shouldn't even be upset over the whole mess.

 

Chris was right. Last night shouldn't have bothered him the slightest. All that women did was …. she just …

 

It didn't really matter anymore.

 

He buried his face in the sheets, shame returning with a stronger embrace.

 

A few hours ticked by before the loneliness got to him and in desperation, he called Lita.

 

"Hello!"

 

"Hi, um, I'm sorry if it's not a good time for you, but could you stay the night with me, please?" he mumbled, blushing in embarrassment. He hated reaching out; he didn't want to burden his friends with his problems, but he couldn't take the silence in the cold room any longer.

 

"Sure. Lemme get my stuff together. When should I come over?"

 

"Any time is fine."

 

"I'll come now then!"

 

He bit back a relieved sigh and said "okay" before hanging up.

 

It wasn't long until there was a knock on the door and he went to answer it, wiping the drying tears off of his face furiously.

 

Lita grinned brightly at her friend when the door was opened, but her excitement faded when she saw the misery masked behind the dark brown eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

 

Eddie shrugged and let her in. "Chris wants to stay the night with Rey-Rey and Adam. I just don't want to be alone, that's all," he murmured, looking down self-consciously. He didn't want to tell her about the Canadian lashing out at him, knowing she'd feel sorry for him. He hated it when people look at him with that pity in their eyes.

 

She cocked her head slightly to the side, considering the words. This….This didn't add up, at all. "Why doesn't he want to stay here with you?" she asked, a little unsurprised when she received a flinch as her answer, the latino turning away from her.

 

"I rather not talk about it," he muttered, his voice tight as his hands curled up into fists.

 

She stood still, debating what to do before placing a hand gently on one rigid shoulder. "I understand," she said softly.

 

Eddie relaxed a bit at the touch, feeling a stab of guilt for being short with her. He was grateful for her not asking any more prying questions. He appreciated her concern, but there was really nothing wrong, except for him.

 

"So, how does a movie night sound? I got some comedies and drama!" Lita chirped, wanting to fill the silence.

 

"Um, that'd be nice."

 

She smiled and dumped her bag on the bed, taking the DVDs out. "I've got Rain Man, Stand By Me, Liar Liar, Kangaroo Jack, and the Wedding Crashers! What's your poison?"

 

Eddie studied the array of movies before pointing to Liar Liar.

 

"Ah! Jim Carrey! You have fine tastes in comedy, my friend," she murmured her approval, taking the disk out of the box and putting it in the DVD player. Thankfully both the TV and the player was on the dresser in front of the bed so they could both kick back and relax.

 

Eddie climbed on the mattress, resting his back against the wooden headboard.

 

Lita sat next to the latino, humming quietly as the movie began to play.

 

About halfway through the comedy, she realized that her best friend wasn't even paying attention. She glanced at him, worried. "Everything okay?" she whispered.

 

Eddie jumped, startled at the unexpected question. "Ah, yeah. Just got a lot on my mind," he replied half-truthfully, smiling reassuringly at the brunette. It wasn't a lie by any means, but he didn't feel like talking to her.

 

Lita gnawed on the insides of her cheeks, sensing that there was more than what the other wrestler was letting on. She was anxious to know what went down before Eddie called her. She'd heard the shakiness in the soft words on the phone, but she knew if she pushed too far, the man will only put up a brick wall. She looked back at the TV.

 

_'What should I say?'_

 

She knew it wasn't her business, but the thought that there might be something wrong between Chris and Eddie left a bad taste in her mouth. She remembered the bruises all over her friend's face from last year, remembered how volatile the relationship was in the beginning. Those haven't come back as far as she knew. She studied the latino closely; there was nothing that betrayed any signs of a fight. She sighed in relief, but the feeling of unease remained deep down in her gut still.

 

Eddie tried his best to pay attention, but his mind kept wandering back to last night. Anger suddenly washed over him. He can't sit around, feeling sorry for himself forever. No wonder Chris was disgusted with him - he was an useless piece of shit. Shame and embarrassment faded away as cold rage seeped into his skin. He'd just have to push that event out of his head and focused on his tattered relationship with Chris, what remained left of it. He didn't want to lose the man all because of his inability to stay out of trouble. Silently, he promised to be more aware of his surroundings the next time they went out, not wanting a repeat. Now wouldn't that be fucking hysterical?

 

Lita glanced once more at her friend. There was a change in his demeanor. The tired, weary look on his face has left, now replaced with what looked like a combination of anger and determination. She felt a grudging admiration towards the man - not many people would be as composed as he was after being ….

 

She shook her head sharply, not wanting to dwell on what she saw in this room last night. A rush of warmth unexpectedly washed over her, reddening her cheeks as she recalled when she took the blanket off. _'What the hell is this feeling?'_  She shot a furtive look at the other wrestler, but thankfully he didn't noticed her flushed face. Before she knew it, the credits were rolling on the TV screen. Neither of them had paid any attention to the movie.

 

Eddie turned over, his back to Lita. "Thanks for the movie. I'm kinda tired now, sorry," he mumbled quietly.

 

The soft voice startled her out of her thoughts. "Oh, you're fine. No need to apologize," she flustered and then hesitated. She wasn't sure if Eddie wanted her to sleep over or not. "Would you rather I spend the night here or should I leave now?" she asked carefully, hoping she wasn't imposing. She would feel better if she stayed to make sure everything was alright.

 

Eddie paused, thinking for a moment before shrugging. "It's up to you. I'm fine with whatever you decide," he replied.

 

Lita bit on her lip, relieved. She sensed that they would both sleep better together for now instead of being alone with the memories. "Okay, goodnight," she murmured, curling up on the far side of the bed. She doubted that her friend would appreciate contact - some distance was probably more preferable.

 

Eddie felt somewhat disappointed when he felt Lita shifting away from him. The last thing he wanted was to be alone on his side. The bed was more than enough to hold at least three people. The gap was unwelcomed. He waited a while to make sure the diva was asleep before scooting backwards until he felt her body against his. He relaxed, feeling a little better, and closed his eyes. Soon, it wasn't long until he too fell into a dreamless slumber.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Conflicting Wishes

* * *

* * *

 

_Two Days Later_

 

 

 

The group had split apart, Lita and Adam driving off to California for the RAW show, and the SmackDown! group heading to a motel in Nevada.

 

Chris pulled in the parking lot and glanced at Eddie who was sound asleep in the passenger seat. When he came back after the break, his lover had finally gotten over whatever was bothering him. Benoit snorted, the act that nothing was wrong anymore didn't fool him. The smaller man had froze up when he attempted to take the pants off, but there had been no vocal protests so he continued anyway. The sex was uneventful - Eddie had laid there, stiff and quiet under him - but at least there was no fighting for now. He elbowed the sleeping latino. "We're here," he murmured quietly.

 

Eddie jolted awake, nodding groggily at the Canadian as he rubbed his eyes. There hadn't been any arguments yet, but he sensed his friend wasn't completely happy. He clenched his jaw, he'd done nothing wrong so he wasn't going to apologize again. He got out of the car and grabbed his bags, wincing when the movement sent a short burst of pain up his back. The sex last night had been unusually rough, but there was no serious damage. He was grateful for that.

 

"Looks like it'll be another peaceful night," Chris murmured, locking the car and walking towards the office to get a key for their room.

 

Eddie murmured his agreement, following the stout wrestler to the fourth floor. He waved a goodbye to Rey-Rey and Dawn Marie as the two co-workers got their own keys. He swallowed as Chris shut the door behind him. He hoped his best friend didn't have any plans for tonight; he just wanted to rest - his body was still sore from earlier. He put his bag by the bed.

 

_'Of course he got us a singles room again.'_

 

Chris stretched luxuriously, looking affectionately at his lover. "Why don't you take a shower first and then we can have some fun. Whaddaya say?" he murmured.

 

Eddie hesitated, his mouth dry.  _'Not tonight.'_  "Sounds great," he muttered. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad this time. He grabbed a change of clothes and a towel before going to the bathroom. His phone went off and he cursed inwardly; he'd forgotten that he had his cell in the pocket of his jeans. He set the stuff on top of the toilet seat and took the sleek gray phone out. It was a text from Lita asking if they'd made it to the hotel yet. He replied quickly and returned to the room to toss it on top of the bed, nodding to Chris who stared at him in bemusement. "Just Lita. I'll be back," he mumbled, answering the Canadian's unspoken question as he went back into the bathroom.

 

Benoit sat on the edge of the bed idly as he heard the shower running. Trying to get the image of his lover all naked and wet out of his head, he grasped the phone off of the pillow it had landed on. Knowing that there were some photos of them together, he opened the Pictures Tool, smiling fondly at the memories. Then shock crashed into him when the most recent image popped up on the screen. It was Eddie - face all flushed and hair completely tousled. Sweat covered the upper body and the blanket that barely covered the skin was pulled past the hip bones, just low enough to let the person seeing this know that the man didn't have anything on. Fury began building up in Chris. _'That fucking weasel.'_  His breathing became shallow and short, his hand squeezing the phone. _'That cheating, fucking whore.'_  He slammed the cell on the bed and stood up, panting harshly. Oh, the bastard denied cheating on him, and like the fool he was, he believed Eddie. This was the last straw. He took in a huge gulp, trying to calm down. The best thing to do right now was to calmly confront his so called faithful lover about the photo. If the punk knew what was good for him, he'll confess right up and, if not, well, Benoit would have to trade words for fists.

 

Eddie hummed quietly in the shower, washing his hair. He ran his hand down his neck, relieved to find that there was no pain when he touched the bite mark. It was healing fast and all that remained was a faded, red ring of teeth prints indented into the soft skin. He turned the water off and groped blindly for the towel. He stopped cold when his fingers brushed over a bare arm. He hesitated and peeked from behind the curtain.

 

Chris' face was unreadable, but the dark eyes made him shiver.

 

"We need to talk. Hurry up and get dressed," Chris muttered, fighting to keep his voice steady and neutral. The anxiety in the smaller man's brown eyes told him that his friend -  _'"friend" yeah right'_  - knew something wasn't right. He turned and walked out, shutting the door.

 

Eddie swallowed again, his throat suddenly tight. He realized he was just standing in the tub, shaking slightly, and snapped out of it. Chris didn't yell at him …. but the coldness bothered him. He sighed and grabbed the towel. Whatever it was, at least his partner wanted to talk about it. That had to be a good thing.

 

Right?

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Chris tapped his foot impatiently. Then the bathroom door finally opened. It was getting increasingly more and more difficult to keep his anger from taking control of him.

 

Eddie stepped cautiously towards the man, sensing the quiet rage under the calm facade. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible.

 

Chris pointed at the bed. "Sit," he snapped, his own voice clipped and terse.

 

Eddie hastily obeyed, sitting on the bed nervously. He didn't like the look on Benoit's face.

 

"You know, I consider myself to be more than fair. I'm giving you a second chance. Not too many people are that lucky. Yet you continue to push my buttons…" Chris started.

 

Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but the icy glare stopped any words from making it out past his throat.

 

"You'd promised - you'd swore that you didn't cheat. The dumbass I am, I believed you because I loved you. Now, tell me, Eddie, was that love misplaced?" Chris murmured quietly, suddenly looking tired and worn out.

 

Eddie stiffened, disbelief washing over him. _'Where the hell is this coming from?'_  "I-I thought you wanted to put this behind us. You said so yourself yesterday," he stammered.

 

Chris barked out a harsh laugh and shook his head ruefully. "Yeah. You would like that, wouldn't you? To sweep it all under the rug and get away with it, forgotten, huh? I would have let you if not for this," he growled, taking the gray phone out of his pocket and tossing it to the latino.

 

"Wha - ?" Eddie exclaimed, startled, as he caught the cell.

 

"Open it up. Then look at me in the eyes and tell me you don't remember it."

 

The cold voice caused him to flinch. He reluctantly flipped the phone open and a picture came on the screen.

 

Chris studied the younger man closely; noticed how all colors vanished from the face, and how disgust and shock took over the brown eyes. "Well? Still want to say you had nothing to do with it?" he snarled.

 

"Chris - please - I honestly don't remember. If I did, I would have told you. I have nothing to hide from you," Eddie spoke, desperately trying to keep his voice from shaking.

 

Chris twitched and stalked towards the smaller wrestler.

 

Eddie tensed up, expecting a slap. Surprise and pain crashed into him as a fist rammed into his nose, breaking the cartilages. He squeaked and brought his hands up to try and stop the flow of blood gushing out, but some still managed to seep through his fingers and pour down his face. He gagged on the thick, coppery taste when it trickled into his mouth. "Ch-Chris, what the fuck?" he sputtered, glaring at the Canadian in a mixture of anger and fear. He didn't think Benoit would be this violent. That only prove to him just how furious his partner really was, and it sparked a renewed sense of terror.

 

Benoit punched his friend again, his hand colliding into the jaw harshly and he heard a pained gasp. "I'm sick of your lying ass!" he snapped, his tone full of spite. Then he grabbed the neck and pinned the writhing body underneath him.

 

Eddie mewled in protest, choking as he couldn't breathe through the blood clogging up his nose and mouth. He battered his fists against the broad chest, straining weakly from the unyielding grip on his throat. "G-Get off of me, you bastard," he snarked, bringing a knee up, hard.

 

Chris hissed from the pain that coursed upwards from his groin, but he held his position, straddling the latino's waist. "Do you remember when we first started going out? When I asked you if you wanted a real relationship or if you were just looking for a fucking?" he growled softly.

 

Eddie went still at that, sensing where this was going. Panic kicked in overdrive.

 

"Did you lie back then too?" Chris spat, tightening his grip on the neck.

 

Eddie choked, shaking his head furiously. "No! I wasn't lying. I want you, only you, please believe me. Please!" he pleaded incoherently, pawing at his lover's face. Tears streaked down into his hairline. He knew he looked filthy, but he needed to convince the man on top of him that he was telling the truth. He couldn't lose Chris - he simply couldn't. There was no way he could live on his own with his demons whispering in his ears every now and then. He needed someone to keep him on the right track.

 

Chris looked down on the man he loved. "You promised not to be a whore anymore?" he murmured, digging his nail in the skin.

 

Eddie cringed and nodded. "Yes! Yes, I promise. Please, I won't betray your trust again. I promise," he gasped out in a cracking voice. Black dots danced in the edge of his vision. If Benoit kept this up, he'd pass out soon.

 

"Good, because if I can't have you, then no one will," Chris growled and let go, getting off of the bed. "I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you clean yourself up?" he muttered over his shoulder before closing the door.

 

Eddie laid there, panting raggedly, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the sobs back. He face hurt. His jaw wouldn't stop throbbing and his nose was a mangled mess. He was pretty sure the grip on his neck had left an angry bruise of fingerprints behind. He turned over and curled up on his side, shaking. Chris won't leave him, that much he's grateful for, but the violence terrified him.

 

"What the hell did I get myself into?" he whispered out loud in the empty room.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. The Unwise Decision of Defiance

* * *

* * *

 

_February 15, 2004_

 

Eddie was in the process of putting the plate in the sink when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him backwards against a warm body. "Eh?" he grunted, startled.

 

"Today is your big day, isn't it?" Chris murmured, nuzzling against the back of the smaller man's neck.

 

A grin slid across Eddie's face. "Yeah, it is. I finally get the belt from Brock, holmes!" he spoke with excitement in his voice. Seventeen years …. seventeen long years of one uphill battle after another, and here he was. At the top of the mountain. He could barely restrained from bouncing with glee. He felt like a kid again. His jitteriness vanished when he was turned around, hands on his shoulders. He winced from the pressure and looked up. The face greeting him was stern. He bit back a sigh. Things have been rocky since Chris found that picture on his phone. He didn't have freedom anymore - hell, he couldn't even call someone without asking for permission. It was getting a little ridiculous. They fought all the time, him usually being the one who got injured the most. At that, he absently rubbed a bruise on his left elbow - from where Chris had shoved him against the stove - and averted his gaze from the hard glint in his lover's blue eyes.

 

He'd started to question whether or not it was worth staying. Chris had made it perfectly clear; _'Follow my rules or I'll leave.'_  The more their relationship spiraled downwards, the more he wondered if he should just leave himself. Then he snapped out of it. There was no way in hell he was giving up now. He loved Chris and the man loved him back. As long as that was still there, then they can work all of the issues out.

 

"Eddie."

 

The sound of his name jolted him out of his thoughts and he met the eyes again.

 

Chris studied his friend briefly, his gut tightening at the cut over the latino's cheekbone - knowing that was where he'd scratched it in their fight earlier this week. He always felt bad afterwards, but he couldn't control himself when he got angry. He sighed and squeezed the shoulders slightly, relaxing his grip instantly when he saw a faint hint of pain that flashed across Eddie's face. "You'll do great tonight. After you're done, I want you to come straight home, understand?" he murmured.

 

Eddie frowned. Rey-Rey and Adam wanted to take him out to celebrate the milestone of winning the WWE championship. "But my friends want to celebrate with me and I thought - "

 

"I'm sure your friends can do one night without you."

 

The interruption left Eddie speechless. He hadn't hung out with any of their group since the Marriott a few weeks ago.

 

"We can have our own private celebration. What do you think? I'll even put on dinner," Chris continued, trailing his finger down teasingly the front of his lover's shirt.

 

Eddie glared at the Canadian. "I have other people in my life. My world doesn't fucking revolve around you," he retorted. The finger on his chest froze. He swallowed, knowing he was pushing it, but he stood his ground.

 

Chris exhaled and forced a smile on his face. "Just come straight back, no if's or but's," he finished, letting the snarky comment off.

 

Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but then Benoit cut him off again.

 

"Either come back or don't go to work at all. Those are your choices."

 

He scowled, turning away from the pendejo. He grabbed his bag and headed to the door. "Fuck you. You're a real jerk sometimes, you know that?" he grumbled, turning the knob. Before he opened the door, he was pushed against it and then he became dizzy, swaying on his feet, as he was spun violently. He was pushed up against the wall, his feet dangling a little off the ground and a hand pinning his neck. He gasped and fumbled with the iron grip. Then an open palm smacked him across the face and his vision went white.

 

"Would you rather I kick your ass till you passed out, again?" Chris snarled, his voice low and deadly.

 

Eddie shook his head weakly and an apology slipped past his lips. He heard a snort and the pressure on his throat was gone. He crumbled to the floor in an undignified heap.

 

"You're lucky you have a match tonight or I wouldn't be so lenient with you. Get your ass home after you're done. Oh, and the celebration is off. You're sleeping on the couch tonight," Chris muttered, opening the door.

 

Eddie glared up from where he was sitting, but kept his mouth shut. He stood up on his feet shakily and straightened himself. He walked out of the room and to the floor elevator without another word to Benoit.

 

 

 

* * *

 

_Post Show_

 

 

"You did it! You finally did it! I'm so happy for you," Rey cried out, barreling into his friend.

 

Eddie stumbled backwards, nearly dropping the belt. He laughed softly and hugged the other latino, relishing the soft embrace. Chris had been so cold and violent lately - he'd missed the gentle touches.

 

"We still on for partying?" Rey quipped as he pulled away, not noticing the brief flash of disappointment on the new champion's face.

 

Eddie hesitated. He knew he shouldn't deviate from Chris' orders - knowing the consequences won't be pretty. Yet, at the same time, he was sorely tempted to go out with Rey. He barely hung out with his best friend. He pondered silently before nodding his head and answering Rey's question with a "hell yes." He can deal with the fallout later, and besides, he was a brand new champion. He deserved to go out tonight and celebrate his victory.

 

Rey let out an excited cheer and tugged the bigger man towards the parking lot area. "Great! Adam knows a cool nightclub we can hang at. It's only fifteen minutes from here," he chattered.

 

Eddie couldn't help but smile ear-to-ear at that. The group so rarely partied, mostly due to schedule conflicts and insufficient money. He got his car keys out of his pockets and unlocked the doors.

 

They drove to the place. Adam was already waiting for them, waving for their attention.

 

The excitement in Eddie grew. A guys' night out was something he desperately needed. He knew the two men wouldn't ask any prying questions like Lita or look at him worriedly like Dawn. He winced, remembering how she walked in on him changing clothes when he first got to work a few hours ago. He'd heard the soft gasp and hurriedly pulled the wrestling tights on, but it was too late. She had already seen the dark purple and brown bruises that covered his legs and hips from where Benoit had hit him. He avoided her questions about where the marks had came from and left the room quickly.

 

It was embarrassing, but at least she didn't press the issue. He shook his head, pushing the moody thoughts out of his head. He was determined to make this a fun night, one free of worry and stress.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Rey was giggling madly in the passenger seat. The group had chilled out at the club for about three hours, dancing and laughing. He'd drink more beers and margaritas then he could count.

 

Eddie ignored the chuckles next to him. He didn't drink, instead he'd watched Rey and Adam make a fool of themselves. The whole thing was priceless and he had recorded a few videos for blackmail in case the opportunity ever popped up. He pulled in the hotel's lot and parked the car. He half-carried, half-dragged the drunk latino to the lobby's elevator after they checked in. He leaned Rey against the rail and pressed the button for the sixth floor.

 

The ride was mostly silent except for Rey's hiccups and the creepy elevator music that played.

 

Then the bell dinged and the doors opened. Eddie led the smaller man to the room, using Rey's card to unlock it, and carried his friend to the bed. He laid the wrestler gently down on the mattress and pulled the sheets back.

 

Rey kicked off his shoes and curled up. "Can you sleep with me t'night?" he asked, his word slurring thanks to the alcohol still in his system.

 

Eddie shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, ese, but I can't. I gotta get back to Chris," he murmured, draping the covers over the small body.

 

Rey frowned, harrumphing quietly. "At least give me a goodnight kiss?" he mumbled, reaching his arms up.

 

Eddie let out a soft chuckle. "You're such a child sometimes," he teased.

 

"Am not."

 

Eddie rolled his eyes at the indignant protest, but complied. He bent down and planted a peck on the chubby cheek. Rey hugged his neck happily. "Good night, hermano," he murmured.

 

"Night, big bro," Rey purred, snuggling under the blankets.

 

Eddie turned the lights off and closed the door softly shut. He walked down the hall, rubbing his face tiredly. He wondered what time it was. He glanced at the clock on the wall and froze, his eyes widening in panic.

 

_'4:00 in the morning?!'_

 

he quickened his pace, racing towards the elevators to get on the ninth floor. _Shit, shit. This was not good. Not good at all._  He bit his lip nervously. Hopefully Chris would be asleep.

 

The bell dinged again and he squeezed past the doors sliding open. The room was the first one on the left. He frantically slipped his room key in and carefully stepped inside.

 

The lights were off, casting the room in complete darkness.

 

Faint hope soared in Eddie's chest. Maybe the man will let him off easy. He was only three hours late. Maybe -

 

Then the tableside lamp flickered on. Chris was sitting in one of the chairs, looking calmly at him.

 

That was when everything hit Eddie with such a force it left him frozen in spot. If Benoit was that composed, then it meant -

 

It meant the man had already been over the edge.

 

He could barely breathe; terror holding him in a merciless grip. Then anger crashed into him. He had nothing to apologize for. All he'd done was go out with a couple of friends. He did nothing wrong.

 

But he wondered if perhaps he should have spend the night with Rey after all.

 

Chris stood up and walked calmly towards the latino, his voice quiet. "Where the hell have you been?"

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris continued studying the younger man for a few minutes. For three long hours, he’d fret and paced around the room, going crazy with worry. He nearly called the police and hospitals in panic. He stood up and walked calmly towards Eddie who flinched away from him. “Mind telling me where the hell you’ve been?” he asked again, impatience tinging his words. Then frustration mounted when the latino refused to meet his eyes. “Look at me, Guerrero,” he hissed.

 

Eddie winced. The fact Benoit called him by his last name meant that his lover was about to beat him up again. A lump lodged itself in his throat and he swallowed, trying to keep his tremblings from being noticeable. He cursed himself for being irresponsible. He was stupid to think that Chris would let him off of the bat for being this late.

 

“I said, look at me. Are you deaf now?” Chris snarled, cornering the smaller wrestler.

 

Eddie blinked, realizing he was trapped. He really needed to stop being naive. “I’m sorr --” his apology died on his tongue when a fist hit him, hard, on the side of his head. He cried out and brought his hands up defensively, his wrestling instincts taking over. His chest tightened. He really didn’t want to go through this again. He didn’t have it in him to hurt Chris. His shoulders were grabbed and then a knee buried itself in his stomach. He doubled over with a sharp gasp, blood welling up in his throat. Shit, Chris was getting careless -- the bruises up here won’t be so easy to hide. Pain shrouded his senses and all he could focus on was the agony racing through his body. Then he cried out when fingers grasped his hair and yanked his head up.

 

“Where the fuck have you been all night? Huh?” Chris growled harshly.

 

Eddie scrunched his face when he was slapped again. He coughed and blinked back tears. Chris was furious at him -- had every right to be -- and it was all his fault. Why did he have to be such a fucking idiot? “I--” he coughed again, this time blood coming out, “I went out with Rey and Adam.”

 

Chris glared and backhanded the latino across the face. “You mean you’ve been off partying while I was worrying about you?! How fucking selfish can you get?!” He spat, trying to keep his voice low. It wouldn’t be good if one of the guests woke up to the noises.

 

Eddie flinched, lowering his eyes. “I’m sorry. You were mad at me this morning and I miss my friends, so I thought that I would enjoy myself,” he mumbled.

 

Chris shook his head, chuckling coldly. “No, you didn’t think. If you had, you would have came home instead of driving off to who knows where.”

 

“Well, you said come home when I was done. You didn’t say done with work,” Eddie argued. It sounded weak, pathetic even to his own ears and he got hit as a result for speaking out.

 

“I felt bad for our argument this morning so I wanted to do something to make up for it,” Chris sighed.

 

Eddie’s chin was grabbed and his face was forcefully turned to the kitchen. Two plates filled with steak, corn, and mashed potatoes were on the table. A pair of candles, long burnt out, were placed in the middle and an unopened bottle of sparkling grape juice was on the side.

 

His throat tightened in shame. He didn’t realized, or even considered, his lover’s emotional panic over his disappearance, nor the guilt from their fight. “I--I didn’t know,” he began, “you didn’t tell me…”

 

“That’s why it was going to be a surprise, you asshole,” Chris muttered.

 

Eddie winced, looking away. He  _was_  an ass. He never once thought about how Chris would have felt if he partied for a few hours without a single text or phone call. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled again.

 

“I doubt you really are, but you will be soon.”

 

The dark words were the only warning he had before his world exploded in bright, white-hot pain as his jaw was popped.

 

Chris ignored the screaming, dragging the smaller man over to the couch.

 

Keeping one hand on his chin to hold his jaw in place, Eddie shook his head frantically when the Canadian straddled his hips. He couldn’t take any more beating. He was pretty sure something ruptured in his stomach because the blood wouldn’t stop pooling in his mouth. He let out a gurgled cry when fists pounded into his sides and face over and over. His ears kept ringing and he couldn’t see straight. He pushed the torso with his free hand, but it was quickly yanked away and pinned on the cushion. Tears welled up in his eyes and his chest heaved. Grayness crept in the edge of his vision and he welcomed it, longing for the lull of unconsciousness to pull him under so he didn’t have to feel the assaults raining down on him. Then the attacks stopped. He whimpered as a broad hand grasped his chin once again, nails digging in the skin of his cheeks, sending waves of fiery pain up from his dislocated jaw.

 

“You’re such a self-centered, smartass, whiny, little prick,” Chris spoke quietly, tightening his grip more, earning a twitch.

 

“Th-Then why do you stay with me?” Eddie asked, coughing. A trail of blood trickled down from one corner of his mouth and his body racked with the motion.

 

Chris looked down, his face slightly red and covered in sweat. “Because I love you, idiot. Loving someone means putting their needs above your own. Apparently, you didn’t get the fucking memo. I try so hard to be here for you, to not only be your lover, but also your friend. And yet you -- you just do whatever you want without any regards for other people. Do you think I like to fight? To lose control and hurt you? I don’t, Eddie. I don’t want to do this, but you always left me no choice but to do so. You just have to push my buttons all the time, don’t you?” he murmured, a few tears of his own streaking down his cheeks.

 

Eddie didn’t look up, shivering from where the fists had hit him. “Pl-Please,” he whispered, “I don’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

 

Chris exhaled sharply, wiping his face and regathering himself. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyways. This won’t happen again because you’re not allowed to speak to Rey or Adam anymore since you clearly can’t be trusted around them. From now on, I will escort you to and from work. No more phone calls or texts. Everything goes through me now, understand?”

 

Eddie nodded curtly, anger boiling inside of him, but he didn’t say a word. It was his own fault for this mess. The least he could do was own up to it.

 

“Good. Go take a shower. I’ll make an appointment for one of the company doctors to look at you to make sure nothing serious is going on,” Chris grunted, climbing off of the wrestler.

 

  
Eddie wheezed and stood up stiffly, limping over to the bathroom and closing the door. He stepped in the tub, shedding his clothes off, and turned the showerhead on. He leant against the wall and slid down, bringing his knees up to his chest and hugging his legs. He felt so cold and empty. He buried his face and cried silently as the warm water streamed over his aching body.

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 


	10. Denial

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

_"Did you really think you'd get away with that?!"_

 

_He cried out when a fist smashed into his face, adding another bruise to the already colorful array of marks all over his body. His hands were tied behind his back with a belt, leaving him defenseless as a foot rammed into his stomach. He coughed up blood, everything going white for a few, terrifying seconds. He gasped and choked for a bit, momentarily forgetting how to breathe._

 

_"You honestly can't be that dense."_

 

_He flinched at the insult, looking up to glare at his lover. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes and he fought to not break down in front of this man. "Maybe I am, but you're just the same as me," he spat. He regretted his words instantly as strong hands grabbed his throat and squeezed. Panic set in and he thrashed around, screaming desperately as the pressure increased._

 

_He can't breathe._

 

_Can't breathe._

 

_Can't -_

 

"Eddie!"

 

The loud voice jolted him out of his sleep and his eyes flew open to see a worried face peering at him. There was nothing on his neck. _'A dream then….?'_  he thought dazedly.

 

"You were having a nightmare. You kept screaming," Chris murmured, rubbing the latino's arm, trying to offer comfort. He hated to see his lover distressed.

 

Eddie blinked and covered his face with his other arm, trying to get his breathing under control. _'It was just a dream,'_  he repeated to himself, shaking uncontrollably. It felt so frighteningly real.

 

"How does your jaw feel?"

 

The question brought him back to where he was, and he gingerly touched his chin and winced. They'd put it back in place last night after he'd gotten out of the shower, but the pain hadn't gone away. "Still hurts, but it's nothing I can't handle," he replied quietly.

 

Chris barely held back a flinch, heavy guilt weighing in his chest like lead. He desperately wished he could take back the way he lashed out at Eddie yesterday - though he'd meant every word he had said. He cleared his throat and stood up. "I better take you to the doctor today. I'm not risking the pain getting worse. After all, you have a match tomorrow night."

 

Eddie started to protest, but stopped himself. There was no use in talking the Canadian out of it when it came to doctor visits. He got out of the bed, grimacing when the movement made his stomach lurch.

 

"What's wrong?" Chris asked, concerned at how the younger man doubled over with a hiss.

 

"Just...don't worry about it. Everything's just fine, okay?" Eddie snapped testily, not wanting to deal with the questions. Then he froze, realizing the way he spoke to Chris just now.

 

Benoit exhaled sharply and turned away. "I'm going to start the car. Meet me there in five."

 

Eddie stood still, terror abating as Chris walked away. It felt like he barely escaped a beating. Self loathing suddenly washed over him. _'Geez, what am I? A damsel in distress?'_  he thought crossly. He had no reason to be afraid of the man, and he certainly wasn't helpless. He was only jumpy because of that nightmare, that was all.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dr. John Pike looked up from his paperwork when his office door opened and two familiar faces walked in. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

 

Chris returned the greeting with a respectful nod and jabbed a thumb towards Eddie. "His jaw popped out of place yesterday. We just want to make sure it's not permanently damaged or anything," he explained.

 

Eddie fidgeted uncomfortably, not meeting the doctor's curious gaze.

 

Pike studied the wrestlers briefly before gesturing to the patient room. "Alright. come in, I'll take a quick look," he murmured.

 

"Okay. I'll wait out here," Chris quipped.

 

Eddie followed John, looking back at Chris anxiously. He rather have the Canadian come with him, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing all too well that if he said anything like that, he would only get mocked later. He bit his lips nervously and sat down on one of the cots.

 

"So, how did this happen?" Dr. Pike asked quietly, feeling the jawline carefully with his fingers.

 

Eddie shrugged. "I yawned and it came loose," he lied, making his voice drawl carelessly.

 

John narrowed his eyes. The way the bone seemed jagged near its socket…..a yawn would not have done this kind of damage. "I'm going to have to take x-rays of your jaw," he spoke, stepping back.

 

Eddie nodded, unsure how he should react. "Okay, then what?"

 

"Then we'll see if I need to put pins on it or if it can heal properly on its own. It depends on what the images tell me," Pike replied.

 

"Alright," Eddie mumbled, standing up and following the company doctor to the imaging room.

 

 

John cleared his throat awkwardly. The x-rays displayed a startling dark stain along the jawline that looked distinctly like a bruise on the bone. It didn't warrant pins, but it concerned him all the same. "Looks like you can just let it heal, but I need you to be honest with me. This was not from a yawn, mind telling me what really happened?" he asked sternly.

 

Eddie flinched and looked down, studying his feet. He was too ashamed to even meet the reproachful stare. "I rather not say," he muttered. He knew if he told the truth, Chris will be in hot waters. Despite the shit going on between them, he didn't want to get his lover in trouble.

 

Dr. Pike sighed, thinly hiding his frustration. "Fine. Are there any other issues?"

 

Eddie promptly shook his head. His stomach still hurt from that kick last night, but the injury would be harder to explain.

 

"Alrighty then. I guess you can go now. Just don't push yourself too hard," John muttered, watching the wrestler leave the clinic. The bruise indicated that it was from a fight - a brutal one - but with Guerrero keeping quiet, there was nothing he can do. How could he be expected to do his job if people won't tell him the truth?

 

"So, what did the doctor say?" Chris asked when he saw his best friend returned to the office.

 

"He just told me to take it easy and it should be all better soon," Eddie responded, flashing the Canadian a bright smile.

 

Chris grinned toothily, relief washing over him. "That's good news. We better hit the road," he purred, sneaking an arm around the smaller man's waist and leading him out.

 

Eddie couldn't stop the blush from spreading across his cheeks. He wasn't expecting Chris to be affectionate. He relaxed in the soft embrace as they returned to their rental car.

 

He hoped the good mood last for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Tuesday, February 17, 2004_

 

"Goddamn this piece of shit!"

 

Eddie jumped at the angry outburst. He looked warily to where the noise was.

 

Chris was yelling at his phone, trying to turn it on. He charged it last night, but the damn thing was broken. He stalked towards the latino, thrusting his hand forward. "Gimme yours," he snapped.

 

Eddie hastily put his cell in the demanding hand. He watched the older man walked off. He sighed and leaned back against the couch. There was a rift between them again. He should have known Benoit's cheerfulness wouldn't last. The Canadian had been in a foul mood all morning today, and it was starting to make him nervous again - it felt like he was walking on eggshells. He glanced at the clock. It was close to 5:00. He had to get ready for work. He stood up and went to grab his gym back. "Oy! I'm leaving. I'll be back after work," he called out to his lover, going towards the door.

 

"Don't think about taking one step outside. Have you forgotten our agreement?" Chris barked out sharply, glaring at the smaller wrestler.

 

Eddie froze and bit back an exasperated sigh. Guess he should have been expecting this. The man rarely was ever lenient with him. "Fine. Don't take too long, papi," he snarked, crossing his arms.

 

Chris gave a warning glare at the latino and picked up the truck keys. "Watch your attitude. Let's go," he growled, shoving his lover outside and locking the door.

 

"Sheesh, holmes. You don't need to be so grouchy," Eddie complained, walking to the parking lot.

 

Everything went red for a minute and Chris had to will himself to stay still. He took in several deep breaths to calm himself down. "I'm sorry," he eventually spoke. "I just have a lot on my plate right now. I don't mean to lash out on you."

 

Eddie stared at his friend in shock. Never in a million years would he have thought Chris would apologize. He swallowed down a surprised gasp. He knew the man didn't like to hurt him; he saw that look of guilt and regret on the broad face every time after one of Chris' episodes. "Hey, ese. If you don't like your anger getting the best of you, maybe you could see someone?" he suggested hesitantly.

 

Chris glanced at his passenger, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Excuse me?"

 

Eddie averted his gaze, praying his lover won't hit him. "I mean, you could talk to a counselor or somebody who can -"

 

"Or you can shut the fuck up. I'm aware that I lose my temper often, but it's not an issue. I wouldn't get so mad if you just learn your place anyways," Chris interrupted, his voice hard.

 

That was all it took to spark Eddie's own anger, the latino fire in him coming out. "Seriously? I know that I piss you off, but I can't control your fucking reactions, ese. I don't like fighting either, but I'm not going to be a good little boy and do whatever you want me to do. I'm not your damn slave," he spat.

 

Uncomfortable silence etched out between them before Chris chuckled humorlessly. "Is that so?" he murmured, pulling the truck to the side of the road and stopping. "Get out."

 

Eddie stared at the man in disbelief. "What?"

 

"I said, get out. It's only a 30-minute walk from here. I think we could both use the space for a while," Chris clarified, not meeting the bewildered brown eyes.

 

Eddie sighed and stepped out of the car. "Fine, see you later," he grumbled, walking down the road.

 

Chris watched his lover head towards downtown. He exhaled softly, his shoulders drooping. Today was going straight down the drain. He turned his truck around and drove away in the opposite direction. His skin bristled when his mind flashed back to Eddie saying how he should talk to a counselor. Sure, his anger might be a tad out of hand, but it wasn't that big of a deal. Besides, he was getting better at reigning himself in now. He glanced in the review mirror, idly seeing how the man was getting smaller and smaller as the distance between them increased. He sighed again. He really didn't want to lose Eddie - the latino meant far too much to him for him to leave. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as anxiety washed over him. Perhaps he should ease up on his rules.

 

Eddie winced as the pain flared up from his stomach. Damn, he really should have a doctor look at it. Something was probably ruptured. "I'll do it after my match," he said aloud to himself, walking towards the stadium where SmackDown! was being taped at for the night.

 

Rey smiled in relief when he saw his best friend come in the locker room. "Hey, hermano! I tried calling you and Chris, but you guys never picked up. Is everything okay?" he bombarded the other latino with questions.

 

Eddie stiffened and forced a smile to his face. Chris demanded that he cut all ties with Rey-Rey and Adam, but he couldn't do that. Rey was like his little brother and Copeland was a good friend. "Ah, sorry. I lost my phone, though I don't know why Chris hasn't returned your calls," he lied, keeping the smile in place to reassure the smaller wrestler.

 

Rey frowned and then shrugged his shoulders casually. "Just glad you're okay. You better change. You come on in 15," he murmured, leaving the room.

 

Eddie panicked, ripping his wrestling tights and WrestleMania XX shirt out of his bag. He quickly changed clothes and grabbed his championship belt. Shit, he hadn't have time to go over the lines for his segment. He'll just have to wing it. Hopefully Vince and the Creative Team wouldn't get too pissy at him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Eddie returned to the locker room a hour and a half later, clutching his stomach and trying to hold back the bile threatening to come up his throat. Chavito hovered over him anxiously.

 

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you in our match" Chavito pestered his uncle worriedly.

 

Eddie shook his head weakly and doubled over with a pained gasp.

 

"That does it, I'm getting a doctor. Sit down on the bench," The younger Guerrero murmured gently.

 

At that moment, the doors opened and Rey came in. He grew alarmed when he saw how clammy and ill Eddie looked. "The hell? What happened?!" he exclaimed. His question remained unanswered as his best friend collapsed on the floor.

 

The agony was too much. He couldn't take it anymore. His legs gave out and he fell down. The last thing he heard was Rey yelling his name in a panicked scream.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Chris barged in through the hospital's lobby doors in the ER, panic evident on his face. Rey had called him hysterically about ten minutes ago, telling him that Eddie had collapsed. He'd driven like a maniac on the freeway, swerving in between cars. It was a miracle a cop didn't pull him over. He spotted a nurse at the desk and walked up to her. "Hi. Is Guerrero here? I was told that he had to go to the ER," he asked hastily.

 

The young nurse frowned and typed the name in the patient database on the computer. "Ah, yes. He's in room 220-12C getting prepped for a procedure. You a friend?" she murmured, earning a quick nod. She gestured at another nurse. "Ms. Galestorm will lead you to the room."

 

"Thank you," Chris said sincerely, following Galestorm down the hallway. He stepped through the curtains, seeing his lover strapped on the bed in a hospital gown. He swallowed and walked over, grabbing the hand in a light embrace. He couldn't help but noticed how pale and sickly the latino looked. _'What in the world had happened?'_  "Hey."

 

Eddie flickered his eyes open, looking at Benoit tiredly. His head was in a thick fog thanks to the drugs the doctor had injected in his IV. "Hi," he returned the greeting, smiling wanly at the other man.

 

Another nurse, clad in a green gown, came in the room. "Sorry to interrupt, but it's time for us to run a MRI test on him," she said apologetically.

 

"Okay," Chris sighed, squeezing the hand again before stepping back. He watched the staff wheel Eddie out to the hallway. He rubbed his forehead wearily and made his way back to the lobby area. He spotted Rey in a corner of the waiting room and walked toward the smaller man. "Do you know what happened?" he asked.

 

Rey glanced at the Canadian, anger washing over him. "I'm not sure, but there's a nasty bruise on his stomach, like he'd been in a fight. Ya know where that could have came from?" he snapped. The purplish black mark along his best friend's abdomen had been burned into his retinas; he doubt he'd forget it.

 

Chris frowned, confused. Then he blanched when he remembered the argument he and Eddie had back on Sunday. "I-I'm not sure," he muttered, his voice hollow.

 

Rey snorted and turned away. "You're lying. I honestly don't know what he sees in you."

 

Chris winced at the spiteful words and went to sit down in the far corner. Right now, all he can do was wait..

 

 

One of the nurses finally came to fetch Chris. "Hello. He's ready to leave, he just needs help getting dressed. He asked for you," she reported.

 

Chris blinked, surprise hitting him. Eddie asked for him? _'But why me? I'm the one who hurt him in the first place...'_ He kept his thoughts to himself as he was led back into the curtain-shrouded room.

 

Eddie looked up when he heard the curtains rustling and saw his friend, his hands clenching the blanket around his lower body. Benoit definitely wasn't going to be happy about this, but there wasn't anyone else who can help him - not without risking questions. He easily passed most of the bruises off as a result of him being a professional wrestler to the doctors and nurses. Rey, on the other hand, got an eyeful and that would be another story. He didn't miss the look of disgust and aghast from his smaller friend.

 

"I'll leave you guys alone. The clothes are under the bed. Just go to the checkout on your left when you return to the lobby," the nurse said, closing the curtains as she left.

 

Silence stretched out for a while before Eddie blurted out "I'm sorry."

 

Chris stared at the latino in disbelief. "Eddie..." he began quietly.

 

Eddie fisted the covers even more tightly, his knuckles turning white. "I told them it was from a fight, but I didn't say with you. I didn't tell them anything, I swear," he rambled, keeping his eyes downcast. Then his shoulders were grabbed and he gave a full-body flinch.

 

"I'm not mad at you. Please don't apologize - I'm the one who should be," Chris whispered, pulling the man in a hug. He could feel the smaller body trembling in his embrace.

 

Eddie fought to hold back the tears pooling in his eyes. _'Don't you dare to cry.'_ He swallowed and buried his face in a broad shoulder. He sensed the Canadian wasn't in a violent mood, but he was wary all the same. He cleared his throat awkwardly and wiggled out of the warm hug. "I better get dressed," he mumbled.

 

"Okay," Chris agreed, grabbing the bundle from underneath the bed and getting the clothes out of the bag. He helped Eddie take the gown off. He stopped, aghast by the faded bruises that colored the hips and legs in addition to the dark one on the stomach. Guilt heated his skin and he felt sick.

 

Eddie was about to put his shirt on when a hand stopped him, pressing lightly against his chest. "Chris...?" he asked, looking up.

 

Chris carefully traced a faint yellow-brownish bruise along the thigh, pulling away hastily when he earned another flinch. "I really do have an anger issue, huh?" he eventually spoke.

 

Eddie didn't answer, quickly putting his shirt on. He tugged the pants out of the bag and put his legs through the holes, wincing as pain crept up from his stomach.

 

The reaction didn't go unnoticed by Benoit. "What did the doc say?"

 

"Just that I was lucky nothing was damaged enough to require surgery, but I do need two weeks of work off," Eddie replied, gritting his teeth as he pulled the pants up and zipped. His hands were grabbed gently and he glanced at the Canadian, surprised to see the face lined with guilt.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

He was taken back by the quiet apology. "Um, it's fine. Don't worry about it," he muttered, getting off of the bed. "Let's just go home. I hate hospitals."

 

"Okay," Chris echoed, following the latino out to the lobby and checking out at the desk. He looked at his hands in disgust.

 

What right did he have to touch his partner when all he did was cause pain..?

 

  
  


 

* * *

* * *

 

 


	11. Slow Recovery

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie gently eased himself into the bed with Chris' help. The Canadian had been careful with him during the past week, bringing him food and rubbing his back. The peace and attention was nice, but he knew it wouldn't last - that everything will revert back to normal once he was fully healed. The issues were still there, hidden underneath Benoit's guilt and his own injury. He swallowed, looking down. They needed to talk about it and iron their problems out, but he didn't know how to start.

 

Chris sat on the edge of the mattress, lightly tracing his lover's leg. He felt hollow and worn out. He'd been taking care of Eddie for several days now, and the light flinches hadn't escaped his eyes whenever he touched the smaller man. He was well aware that Eddie was wary of him - not that he could blame the latino. He sighed, deflating. He moved closer and carefully touched one shoulder. Chestnut brown eyes met his blue ones, and he took in a deep breath. He really didn't want to lose his friend, but if they were fighting all the time, was it really fair of him to be selfish? "I know that you wouldn't have been hurt if I could just keep my temper in check. I'm sorry. If you want to leave me, I'll understand. I just want you to be happy," he murmured.

 

Eddie frowned, confused. Then he jerked when he realized that Chris was offering him a way out. He hesitated for a moment. It would be nice to not worry about getting yelled at or beaten up, but …. he didn't want to be alone. No matter what peace he would gain from breaking it off with Chris, the loss would be far too great. "Holmes, it's fine -" he began.

 

Chris shook his head. "No, it's not fine. Please don't pretend that everything is okay, because it's not, Eddie. I hurt you, badly, and I can't promise that I won't do it again."

 

Eddie closed his mouth, knowing that the other man was right. "I'm still not leaving," he whispered. His hands fist the sheets tightly and he licked his lips that suddenly felt dry. He knew it was unwise to suggest it again, but maybe Benoit would listen to him this time. "Would you consider therapy..?" he asked, tensing up anxiously.

 

Chris blinked and stared at Eddie blankly. The last time the latino brought the topic up, he'd gotten angry and lashed out. This time, he was unsure. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try - he didn't want his temper to take hold of him again - but his mind protested at the thought of confessing to a  _stranger._

 

Eddie fidgeted as the silence dragged on. Benoit's face was unreadable and the lack of response from the Canadian only served to make him more nervous. "Chris?" he prompted, his voice quiet and betraying none of his fears, thankfully.

 

Chris jumped, as if startled awake from a deep slumber. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "Sorry," he apologized, "I got wrapped up in my thoughts." He paused for a minute. "I'll give it a shot. Maybe something good will come out of this," he murmured, giving Eddie's hand a light squeeze. The relieved look on the handsome face eased some of the burden off of his shoulders.

 

Eddie ducked his head down to hide his surprise. He honestly wasn't expecting Benoit to seriously consider his advice. A pair of lips brushed softly against his forehead and fingers combed through his disheveled hair.

 

"I promise I'll fix this. I promise it'll get better," Chris swore, bringing the latino in for a gentle hug.

 

Tears formed in Eddie's eyes and he buried his face in the Canadian's chest, gratefully accepting the warmth from his lover's body. It's been so long since the man touched him like this - the sensation felt like a lightning bolt shooting through him.

 

For the first time in over a month, a tiny seed of hope grew and blossomed in his chest. Maybe they did have a chance together after all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Chris stepped awkwardly through the office doors. It'd been a week since he promised Eddie that he would talk to someone. His stomach was tight with apprehension - he never spoke of his feelings to a complete stranger before.

 

_'But a promise is a promise.'_

 

He walked up to the check-in desk and quickly scribbled his name in the sign in sheet on the clipboard before he sat down in a cushion chair. He took out his cell phone and sent off a short text to Eddie, letting the latino know that he'd arrived at his appointment. Slipping the cell back in his pocket, he leaned against the chair and waited.

 

A little over ten minutes passed before the counselor came in the waiting room and called out Benoit's name.

 

Chris stood up onto his feet and went to shake the other man's hand. "Thank you for seeing me today, sir," he said politely.

 

"Please, just call me Tony," Ottorman introduced himself, smiling.

 

Chris relaxed at the friendly tone, the words soothing his raw nerves.

 

"Let's go to my office and we can talk about whatever is on your mind today," Tony murmured, leading his new client down the hall.

 

Chris sat down in one of the small lounge couches in the office. He glanced around the room, it was cozy and had a homely feel to it.

 

"So," Ottorman began quietly, sitting down in his desk chair and grabbing a notepad. "Why don't you start off by telling me a little about yourself?"

 

Chris shifted a bit, twiddling his fingers. He wasn't the type to open up about his private life, but he knew he had to if he wanted this man to help him. "Not much to say. I like to keep to myself. I'm a professional wrestler," he mumbled.

 

"It says in your personal information that you're in a relationship. Want to talk about her?"

 

"Uh, it's a him," Chris corrected, blushing and lowering his eyes. He wasn't ashamed of being with Eddie, but some people have a problem with two men going out.

 

"Oh, I apologize. You can talk about him, if you want. How did you two meet?" Tony murmured, hastily writing something down in his book.

 

Chris relaxed again. "We've been friends for years. I've known him since we were starting out in Japan back in 1990. He's funny, charming...a bit of a sarcastic, annoying little asshole, but he has a nice smile and I like his laugh."

 

Tony glanced up from his notes, one eyebrow arched. "But there are parts of him that you dislike?" he pressed.

 

Chris grunted and crossed his arms. "I suppose you could say that. He just never seems to shut up," he grumbled.

 

"Have you discussed your feelings with him?"

 

Shame flushed his face red and he looked away. "Not exactly."

 

"What do you mean?" Ottorman asked, pausing when the Canadian didn't answer. He sighed and leaned forward. "Son, whatever you tell me will stay between us in this room. I promise."

 

Benoit nodded and let out a ragged breath. "Sometimes I lose my temper and lash out. I've beat him up more than once," he confessed so softly that the counselor strained to hear him.

 

Tony blinked, keeping his face neutral and only wrote down 'tendency to lose control' on his notepad. "So you came to me because you want to manage your anger better?" he prompted.

 

Chris nodded. "Basically yeah. I don't want to keep hurting him," he sighed, his shoulders sagging.

 

"I see. Well, what triggers you to lash out?"

 

He pursued his lips and shrugged. "I dunno. It's usually just him smarting off or not doing what I tell him to do," he muttered.

 

Ottorman jolted a few more stuff down and looked up. "Would you say that you can be controlling?" he asked carefully.

 

Chris winced, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I suppose so. It's just that I can't really trust him."

 

"But isn't trust necessary in a relationship?"

 

"Yeah, but he broke it last month. He's not exactly doing anything to earn my trust back," Chris fired back, bristling. First the latino cheated behind his back on the night of their anniversary, then went out and partied until four in the morning a few weeks ago when they were supposed to celebrate his new championship privately. "He's not the most reliable partner," Chris added, his hands curling into fists.

 

Tony remained calm. He was actually happy to see Benoit like this - it helped him understand exactly what push the Canadian over the edge. "If that's the case, I hope you don't mind me asking this, but why don't you just break it off if you feel that way?"

 

"Because I don't want to leave him," Chris answered simply. _'And also because he belongs to me only.'_  But he ignored the possessive voice in his head. Just as quickly as it arrived, his anger was gone. "I'd asked him if he wanted out of the relationship, but he said no, so I figured why not try to solve my issues, you know?" he continued, feeling sheepish. It tore him apart to have to go to a stranger for help, but he promised Eddie that he would try.

 

Tony hummed thoughtfully. This was most intriguing. Most partners would take the opportunity that Chris had offered and flee out of what seemed to be an abusive relationship. "Well, you've come to the right place, son. Is it okay if you bring Eddie with you next time? I would like to talk to the both of you separately," he spoke.

 

Chris frowned in confusion. "Sure, but why? He doesn't need therapy."

 

"That may be so, but I would still like to speak with him all the same. It'd help me gain a better understanding of what exactly triggers you," he explained.

 

The frown on Chris' face stayed, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, whatever you think will help this mess, doc."

 

Tony smiled. "Thank you. Same time next week?" he asked, standing up and holding out his hand.

 

Chris returned the smile and gave a confirmation dip of his head, shaking the hand. "Yes. Thank you. I really appreciate all of this," he said sincerely.

 

"That's what I'm here for, Chris," Tony laughed, leading his client back to the lobby area. "Just go sign out with the lovely Ms. Risa. Have a good day."

 

Chris waved goodbye and checked out of the office, walking back to his car. He felt light and somewhat relieved. It was a surprisingly good feeling to get the guilt off of his chest.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Eddie glanced up from the book he was reading when the front door opened. "Hey, holmes! How did it go?" he greeted cheerfully.

 

"Not too bad, actually. How was your morning?" Chris murmured, taking his jacket off and draping it over a chair near the door. He walked over to his lover and placed a gentle kiss against the latino's cheek. "I've missed you."

 

Eddie leaned against the other man, smiling warmly. "Mine wasn't bad either. I miss you more," he whispered, he'd indeed miss Benoit's affectionate side. Things had been so stale and tensed lately.

 

Chris smirked at the slight teasing tone in Eddie's words. His friend must be feeling better. "The doc wants to talk to you next week so you'll be coming with me."

 

Eddie blinked and met Benoit's sparkling blue eyes. "Really? Huh, that's weird, but okay." A hand trailed lightly down to the waistband of his shorts and he went rigid.

 

"It's been a while since we've had any fun, hasn't it? What do you say?" Chris spoke, his voice low and husky as his fingers crept underneath the basketball shorts.

 

Eddie opened his mouth, about to protest, but he stopped himself. It'd been a long time since Chris was in this good of a mood. He didn't want to spoil it. "S-Sure," he muttered, trying to force his body to relax as the Canadian climbed on top of him. At least his lover was being careful and avoiding his stomach.

 

Chris gave biting kisses along the smaller man's neck, his nails digging into the soft skin of the hips. "I wish you didn't have to go back to work tomorrow. I like having you all to myself," he murmured breathlessly.

 

Eddie swallowed nervously when Benoit's voice became sharp with possessiveness. He hated it when the man became like this, absolutely fucking hated it, but he kept quiet. _'It'll be over soon.'_

 

Chris dipped lower, nipping gently at the skin below the navel, not hearing the quiet whimper. "I'm going to make you feel real good here soon," he whispered, grasping the limp member in his hand and tugging the shorts down to the ankles with his other one.

 

Eddie covered his face with his left arm, trying desperately hard to not shiver as tears prickled in his eyes.

 

_'Don't say anything. Just be quiet and it'll be over soon. If you speak up, he'll only hurt you.'_

 

 

 

* * *

* * *


	12. Regression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I knew I loved you when I started making excuses for the way you hurt me." - unknown

* * *

* * *

 

 

_March 07, 2004_

 

 

 

Chris glanced over to the sleeping form in his bed, smiling fondly. Recently, their lives have been thrown back into chaos with Eddie now back at work full-time and their schedules being different again. He'd grown used to seeing Eddie every day after the latino was released from the hospital two weeks ago on the orders of bed rest. It was nice taking care of the man. He snapped out of his daydreaming and went over to shake his lover awake. "Rise and shine, cheri. It's time to get up. Remember, you have to go with me to my counseling," he murmured.

 

Eddie stirred, yawning. He sat up and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Right," he mumbled.

 

Chris laughed softly and walked to the kitchen. "I'll make some toast. What do you want to drink?"

 

"Orange juice, please," Eddie replied, getting out of the bed to change clothes. It was wonderful to be back at work again. He was growing sick of being cooped up inside all the time. Putting on a pair of faded jeans and a dark red tee shirt, he ran his hand through his messy hair.  _'Shit.'_ He sighed. He didn't have time to fix it today.

 

"Food's ready," Chris called out, pulling the chair back for his friend to sit in.

 

Eddie rolled his eyes and sat down. "Treating me like royalty, ese? You forgot the crown," he snarked, picking up a toasted bread and spreading butter on it.

 

Irritation flared up in Chris, but he pushed it away. He wasn't about to ruin the morning. "How is your stomach feeling?"

 

Eddie swallowed the chunk of bread and shrugged. "It's okay, still kinda tender though. The hospital said it should be a few more days before it's completely healed."

 

Chris grunted and nuzzled his nose against the latino's ear. "That's good. I can't wait for the bedroom to be back to normal, if you catch my drift," he whispered playfully, tracing his lover's pecs through the thin fabric of the shirt.

 

Eddie stiffened and held his breath, staying perfectly still until the Canadian pecked him lightly on the jaw and moved off. He exhaled quietly as shudders rippled through his frame. He knew that he need to tell Benoit about his discomfort with sex, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up without pissing the man off. Ever since the Amanda woman did…. _that,_  Chris had been awfully rough and frisky with him, but he never said anything. It was safer to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't allow it to go on forever.

 

"Hey, slowpoke. You going to sit there all day?" Chris asked teasingly.

 

Eddie jumped, startled out of his thoughts. "Sorry," he muttered, downing his drink before standing up.

 

"We gotta head out," Chris reminded his friend, grabbing the car keys.

 

"Wait, I need to brush my teeth," Eddie interrupted, running over to the bathroom.

 

Chris sighed loudly. "Hurry up! I don't want to be late," he snapped, tapping his foot impatiently.

 

A few minutes later, Eddie came out, twisting his face slightly against the bitter mixture of orange juice and toothpaste. "Okay, I'm ready," he yawned again. God, was he tired.

 

"Come on, let's go already," Chris growled, pushing the latino out.

 

Eddie hissed angrily and walked to the car. "What's biting you?" he groused, climbing into the passenger seat.

 

Chris snorted and shook his head. "Stop being a smartass," he muttered, starting the ignition.

 

"I will as soon as you stop being so damn bossy," Eddie said under his breath.

 

"Excuse me? What did you say?"

 

The dark snarl made him freeze. "U-Uh, nothing. Just that it's too early for this," he replied hastily.

 

Chris glared at the smaller man suspiciously for a few seconds before focusing his attention back on the road.

 

Eddie relaxed in his seat, looking out of the window. _'That therapist sure has his hands full,'_ he thought. Despite his wishes, he wasn't sure if Chris' anger could be controlled.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Dr. Ottorman came into the waiting room. He saw Chris and a latin man whom he didn't recognized. That must be his client's partner. "Hello," he greeted the two men. "Eddie, I assume?" he asked, meeting the curious brown eyes.

 

"Si. Nice to meet you, doc," Eddie mumbled, nodding shyly.

 

"I'd like to talk to you first."

 

He blinked and looked at Chris anxiously. The Canadian only nodded. He bit his lip and met the counselor's friendly gaze. "Okay."

 

They made their way down the hallway to Tony's office. Eddie jumped when Ottorman touched his shoulder to steer him into the room on his right.

 

"We're here," Tony murmured, taking his hand away at the flinch. He frowned in concern, his client's friend sure was jittery. He also hadn't missed the way the Latino had looked at Chris, as if seeking permission before following him. The dependency definitely wasn't a good sign.

 

Eddie stepped inside, standing awkwardly as the doc closed the doors.

 

"Please, you can sit anywhere."

 

He shuffled his feet and kept his gaze fixated on the ground. "Thanks, but I rather stand."

 

"Alright, whatever makes you comfortable," Ottorman spoke, sitting down in his chair and taking out a blank piece of paper to write notes.

 

"Why do you want to talk to me?" Eddie blurted out.

 

Tony paused. "Well, I figure if I get your side, then I'll be in a much better position to help Chris," he answered.

 

Eddie blinked and gave a curt dip of his head. That made sense. "It'd be nice if he could learn to deal with his anger better," he muttered.

 

"I take it you guys fight a lot?"

 

Embarrassment flooded through him and he nodded. No one else knew exactly how violent and turbulent their relationship really was. If Lita or Rey found out …. He clenched his hands. "That'd be an understatement of the year."

 

Tony hummed quietly to himself. It sounded as if the latino wasn't entirely happy with that. "Mind telling me what kind of fights you guys usually have? Verbal? Physical?"

 

Eddie blushed and crossed his arms. "Both. I tend to be the punching bag," he mumbled, not meeting the gray eyes that he knew would be filled with something akin to pity.

 

"Have you ever asked him to discuss the issues as an alternative to fighting?"

 

 

He glared hotly at the counselor. "You think I haven't tried?" he hissed, "Anything would be better than him beating the shit out of me!" Then he froze, panicking inside. "You're not going to tell him what I said, are you?" he asked timidly. If Benoit heard him, he wouldn't be able to walk for a month.

 

"No, of course not. It's the law that anything you tell me will be kept private and I am not to share anything with others," Ottorman replied. He couldn't help but be concerned about Eddie's emotional state. One second, the latino was seething and frustrated, the next second, he's anxious and fearful. It was quite worrying.

 

Eddie sagged in relief, collapsing on the couch behind him as his legs gave out. "It wasn't always like this," he whispered.

 

"I'm sorry?"

 

"He wasn't always like this. When we first started going out, he was nice. We always had fun and we never fought," he elaborated. Lately, after their anniversary, Chris' friendship and love had warped into something dark and demanding. It honestly scared him - he could barely recognized his friend anymore. "Now, even the simplest things set him off."

 

Tony wrote down a few more notes and glanced up, the lines in his forehead creasing when he noticed how exhausted the other man looked. The relationship was clearly taking its toll. "Have you ever considered leaving?"

 

"Not really, no," Eddie sighed, shaking his head. "I still have hopes that he can go back to the person he used to be. Plus I'm afraid he'd go crazy if I break up with him," he confessed.

 

Tony sighed and folded his hands on top of his clipboard. "I understand why you feel that way, but you have to take care of yourself too. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your own happiness."

 

Eddie stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?" he growled. "I'm not sacrificing anything! I'm perfectly happy and there's nothing wrong with me."

 

"Son, I can tell that's not the whole truth."

 

He scowled and stood up. "You don't know shit about me. Besides, you're here to take care of Chris," he spat, walking out of the door.

 

"Eddie, wait -"

 

"Have a good day _, sir."_

 

Tony stood up, watching his doors swing shut. He groaned softly and massaged the bridge of his nose. "That certainly went well," he muttered to himself. It was obvious that the latin man was in denial and ignoring his own feelings.

 

Eddie stalked back to the lobby. That doctor had no business - had no right to tell him how he felt. He was happy, he was fine. The only problem in their relationship that was causing conflict was Chris' temper. Once that was resolved, then everything will be okay again. He paused, a sinking feeling of unease settling in his stomach. _'What if Chris stays this way? Then what?'_  He shook the thought away, he shouldn't be thinking like that.

 

Chris turned around in surprise when he saw his lover returned to the waiting room. "That was quick, did it go well?" He asked, hugging the smaller man.

 

"Yeah," Eddie lied, snuggling in the warmth of Benoit's arms.

 

Chris smiled and squeezed gently. "Don't worry, we'll be back home soon," he murmured, burying his lips in the dark hair.

 

Eddie laughed and backed off, lightly punching a shoulder. "Don't get distracted, holmes," he teased.

 

Chris rolled his eyes, snapping his head to the door when he heard his name, spotting his counselor. "I gotta go. Be back soon," he spoke.

 

"Okay," Eddie muttered, narrowing his eyes and pointedly looking away when Tony tried to catch his gaze. He waited till the men were gone before he sat down and grabbed a magazine. He might as well read while he was here.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_March 25, 2004_

 

 

Chris tapped his steering wheel with his fingers to the beat of the song blaring out on his radio. Traffic was thankfully light as he drove down the freeway to pick Eddie up from work. He got off the exit and went to the stadium, parking in the garage. He had been going to therapy for the past four weeks now, and it was proving to be helpful. He and Eddie didn't really fight anymore. They traded barbs every now and then, but he never lashed out. That was a big improvement. His lover was also finally free of bruises - something that made him very relieved and happy. He didn't like causing pain.

 

He walked over to Gate 15, frowning when he didn't see the latino anywhere. This was where they were supposed to meet. He glanced at his watch, wondering if perhaps he'd gotten the time wrong. Nope, it was 10:00 PM sharp. ' _What the hell?'_ he thought. Maybe Eddie had simply forgot.

 

Sighing, Chris decided to check the locker room. After fifteen minutes of wandering around, he finally found the damn room. The door was open and he peeked inside, confusion washing over him when he saw his lover talking to an unfamiliar man. He couldn't make out what they were saying. Then he bristled when the man hugged Eddie, the hands far too close to the lower back for his liking.  _'Oh hell no,'_  A growl started rumbling deep in his throat. This was getting too intimate.

 

Everything went red when Eddie laughed and hugged the man back, giving a light peck against a cheek.

 

Chris moved away to hide in the shadows, trembling in fury. Footsteps fell closer and the unnamed man walked out, not seeing him. He waited until Eddie stepped past him before he grabbed the shoulders, shoving the latino against the wall. He fought hard to keep control, to not let his anger take over completely.

 

_"Remember, whenever you get angry, just count to 15."_

 

The counselor's advice usually helped calm him down, but not this time. He was beyond furious, his body shaking like a leaf. The bastard was flirting with a co-worker and yet kept using excuses or changing the subject altogether whenever he tried to bring up sex. It all made sense now.

 

"Chris? What's wro-" Eddie yelped when he was slammed against the wall again, the back of his head hitting the pasture. He winced, trying to move away, but the hands remained firmly on his shoulders. "Ch-Chris?"

 

"Mind explaining to me what the hell that was about?"

 

The softly-spoken words told Eddie just how angry Benoit was. He took in a deep breath, trying to stifle his fear. "What are you talking about? I don't -" he was cut off when the Canadian slapped him.

_'Shit. Shit. This was not good.'_

 

The rage that was vibrating from Chris was practically palpable, wrapping around him in a choking grip.

 

"Stop lying!" Chris snapped, raising his fist again.

 

Eddie flinched, desperately trying to scramble away from the looming man. "Wait! I honestly don't know what you mean!" he protested.

 

Something in Chris' head twitched and he pinned the latino by the throat. "You stupid whore."

 

The insult stung Eddie, but before he could ask Chris what in the world was going on, the first slammed against the side of his head and his world exploded into white-hot pain.

 

The last thing he remembered before passing out was being lifted over Benoit's shoulder and carried off.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie woke up to a pounding headache and bright lights. It took him a while to shake off his vertigo once he sat up. He frowned, trying to remember what happened. Then Benoit came into his line of sight. He froze when he realized his hands were tied behind his back. The memory of the Canadian knocking him out earlier came rushing back to him and he tried to keep his hyperventilating down. "What's going on, holmes?" he asked, his voice slightly panicky.

 

Chris walked around calmly, coming to the side of the bed where the latino was staring fearfully at him with wide brown eyes. He slowly bought up one hand clad in a leather glove. "I think it's time you answer my questions ... truthfully," he spoke, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and unbuttoning the smaller wrestler's shirt. He struggled to keep up the cool facade; inside, he was boiling like a volcano about to erupt. His fingers shook a little when he reached the last few buttons.

 

Eddie's chest hitched when the buttons popped off, one by one. He didn't like Chris like this - didn't like it when the man was calm and collected. The violent outbursts were easier to predict. "S-Sure, but why are you taking my shirt off?" he stammered.

 

Chris didn't answer, tearing the clothing off and pinching a nipple before he twisted it.

 

Eddie's pained screams echoed in the room before Benoit relented and slapped him.

 

"Stop that. The neighbors will hear you."

 

Tears streaked down to his hairline and Eddie panted harshly, his body shivering. "W-What the hell was that for?!"

 

"To remind you what will happen if you lie to me."

 

He flinched and glared at the Canadian. "Are you fucking kidding me? I'll tell you whatever you want!" he spat.

 

"I know, but I also know  _you,_  Eddie. You've always been a liar, you need some motivation to tell the truth," Chris countered.

 

Eddie's mouth snapped shut and he looked away, shifting uncomfortably. That _hurt._

 

"Who was that man you were talking to back at the locker room?" Chris asked, leaving his fingers splayed out around the nipple threateningly.

 

"Huh? You mean Ben? He's an old friend. We'd worked together in the Ring of Honor when I was fired. I haven't seen him for a few years so we were catching up," Eddie replied, confused. Why was Benoit asking him this?

 

Chris frowned suspiciously. "Did you guys ever go out?"

 

"No, why?"

 

He narrowed his eyes and tightened his fingers.

 

Eddie stiffened when the pressure increased on his sensitive nub. "I'm telling the truth! We never did anything, please, Chris!" He cried out, trembling.

 

"Then why did you kiss him?" Chris snarled, squeezing more. "Eh? Why the hell did you kiss him?!" His voice rose with fury and he struggled to bring it down. He couldn't let his temper get the best of him - he needed answers first.

 

Eddie gasped when Benoit twisted again, his back arching off the bed. Then the pain died down once the hand was removed. He whined and tried to roll on his side away from the pendejo.

 

"Answer the question, Guerrero, or I'll do it again," Chris growled, latching onto one shaking shoulder.

 

"P-Please, I'm sorry. I do that with everyone, you know that! It was just a friendly peck," Eddie whispered hoarsely, his voice strained from the earlier screaming.

 

Chris hissed and shoved the latino away in disgust. "You're such a whore."

 

"You've never had a problem with it before," Eddie protested.

 

"That was before you cheated on me. On the night of our one year anniversary no less!"

 

"I never cheated on you! That woman, she...she -"

 

"She what? Assaulted you? Don't be ridiculous, Eddie! A woman can't rape a man."

 

Eddie flinched, curling in on himself when Chris punched him in the ribs. "It's not like I wanted it," he muttered, wheezing.

 

"Then you should have fought her off," Chris scoffed, forcing himself to take in a deep breath. He'd almost lost it right then, but he'd managed to hold back at the last moment.

 

Eddie gingerly rolled on his back to relieve the pressure on his ribcage, but that didn't help. "Whatever you say," he hissed under his breath. Somehow, the words Benoit spat at him hurt him more than the fists.

 

"You telling me the truth? There's nothing going on between you and this Ben fella?" Chris asked, watching the other man closely.

 

"Of course I'm telling the truth, you asshole!" Eddie snapped, trying to sit up. His arms were fast going numb from being bounded so tightly.

 

"I don't believe you."

 

"What?! Why the hell would I -" Eddie's indignant outburst was cut off abruptly when Benoit leaned in, towering over his smaller frame. He shrank instinctively.

 

"You're lucky I'm being lenient with you because you've only been out of the hospital for less than two months, but believe me," Chris growled, one hand cupping the latino's crotch, earning a twitch. "If I catch you talking to Ben again, or if I ever see you kissing anyone, I'll cut your bitte off, you understand?"

 

Eddie gave a slight nod, staying still as the bigger man gave a warning squeeze. He cringed and closed his thighs together. Thankfully, Chris let go of him, but before he could relax, nails dug into his jawline and tilted his chin up.

 

"Perhaps I haven't been too clear, but your lips belong only to me," Chris added, releasing his firm grip. He felt oddly detached from everything, like he was watching this take place outside. The anger had faded away into icy asperity. "Go get dressed."

 

"W-What?" Eddie asked shakily, looking up. He felt cold, still trembling from shock over what had just transpired.

 

"Are you deaf? I said go get dressed. You'll have to stay the night somewhere else," Chris repeated, taking the glove off. If his lover stayed here any longer, he wasn't sure what he would do. He can only maintain control for so long.

 

"You're going to have to untie me first," Eddie mumbled, his shaking worsening when the Canadian came closer.

 

"Turn on your stomach," Chris ordered, waiting for Eddie to roll over, then he began undoing the knots around the hands. His eyes strayed down to the latino's ass. He knew it was inappropriate, he was still furious, but he couldn't help the wave of arousal that swept over his groin.

 

Eddie let out a muffled whimper into the pillow when he felt fingers kneading his ass. _'No, please. No, not this. This can't be happening,'_ he felt sick, hot tears burning his eyes as they slid down his cheeks.

 

Chris stopped his massage, mentally chiding himself. He was supposed to be disciplining his friend, not rewarding him. "That reminds me, how come you won't have sex anymore?"

 

Eddie almost sobbed in relief when the hands moved away from his ass. "Can you untie me, please?" he begged, desperate to get free. He didn't want to stay in this position a moment longer.

 

Chris rolled his eyes but complied, untying the last knot.

 

Eddie sat up and turned around to face Benoit, bringing his arms back to his chest. "I should've told you sooner, but it's because I'm not really ... I don't like it anymore," he began awkwardly, blushing.

 

Chris raised one eyebrow. "Really? How long have you felt like this?"

 

 _'Since our anniversary,'_  but Eddie didn't voice his thought. The Canadian will only mock him. He shrugged and replied "a month or so." It wasn't a lie necessarily. "It's not your fault, by the way. It's not you, it has nothing to do with you. It's just...makes me nervous. I don't really like it anymore," he added. He didn't know how to explain it - the idea of being vulnerable and surrendering his body to someone made him distressed.

 

Chris pondered that quietly. He sensed the younger man was telling the truth. "Well, you should have told me that sooner. I wouldn't have assumed anything had you just been honest with me from the start. Geez, this is all your fault," he sighed, annoyed.

 

Eddie looked down, ashamed. _'But you're not exactly an easy person to talk to, Chris,'_  he thought silently. "Sorry."

 

"Just go get dressed. Unless you want to stay and risk me hurting you."

 

Eddie nodded and stood up, swaying slightly on his feet. One of the arrangements that the counselor suggested they make was for Eddie to stay somewhere else whenever Chris became violent. He quickly put a tank top on and an oversize sweatshirt. He took his jeans off and changed into a pair of track pants. He was about to head out when Benoit stopped him.

 

"Here's your wallet and phone. I'll call you tomorrow," Chris murmured.

 

"Okay."

 

"Don't forget what I told you earlier. If I catch you acting like that again ..." Chris warned, his blue eyes darkening.

 

Eddie's throat closed up and he lowered his eyes. "Of course, don't worry."

 

"Good boy," Chris smirked, but his smile was cold. "Go off now."

 

Eddie turned around and went outside, the door shutting behind him. He glanced up at the night sky and shivered, heading down the street.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rey jerked awake when he heard his phone going off. Fumbling in the dark, he blindly turned the lamp on and grabbed his cell. "Hola?" he mumbled sleepily.

 

"Rey?"

 

Recognizing the hesitant voice on the other end, Rey woke up instantly. "Eddie? What's wrong, where are you?" he asked worriedly, glancing at his clock. It was after midnight.

 

"Nothing. It's just, uh, I'm on the bus that's going to downtown. Could I crash at your place tonight?"

 

"Sure, of course! But I thought you were staying with Chris?" Rey interjected.

 

"Well I was, but I accidentally locked myself out and he's not answering his phone."

 

Rey frowned. His friend sounded...weird. "Oh. What stop are you getting off at?"

 

"I think Georgetown street. Not sure. It's somewhere near a theater."

 

"Ah, I know where that is. I'll pick you up there," Rey spoke, getting out of the bed.

 

"Okay, thanks, ese."

 

"Not a problem. See you soon," Rey murmured, hanging up. He quickly got dressed and grabbed his keys, walking downstairs to the lobby.

 

 

Eddie sighed and put his cell back in his pocket. He and two other people were the only ones on the city bus. It'd been a forty-minute ride so far and he felt awkward being out in the open like this. The bus driver gave him a strange look when he'd first got on, but she didn't say anything. They finally made it to downtown and he hopped off, his teeth chattering in the frigid air. A honk startled him and he glanced over his shoulder, seeing Rey. He walked over to the rental car and got inside the passenger seat. "Thanks for picking me up," he spoke, grateful for the toasty warmth.

 

"Anything for you," Rey smiled tiredly, then he squint his eyes when he saw something on Eddie's face. "Hey."

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Why do you have a bruise?"

 

"What?" Eddie asked, confused, then pain flared up when fingers carefully poked at the area between his eye and ear. "Ow!"

 

"Did Chris do this?" Rey growled, bristling. If that bastard laid a hand on his dearest friend...

 

"No! I didn't even know I had a bruise, it must be from work," Eddie said half-truthfully. _'Shit, that must have been from where he had hit me after Ben left,'_  he realized frantically.

 

"Why do you keep covering up for him? I don't understand -"

 

"Rey, please. Just drop it," Eddie pleaded, not caring how he sounded. He didn't want to talk about Benoit right now.

 

Rey sighed in frustration. "Fine."

 

Eddie flinched at the pensive tone and stared out of the window.

 

The rest of the drive was spent in silence.

 

They reached Rey's hotel a short time later. Once they arrived to the room, Eddie sat down on one of the beds, kicking his shoes off. "I'm sorry."

 

Rey blinked in surprise, looking at his friend. "What?"

 

"I know it's late. It's just .. so much shit has been going on," Eddie explained wearily.

 

Rey's face softened and he went to sit down next to Eddie. "Is this about Chris?" he guessed.

 

"He's seeing a therapist. He's trying to handle his anger better, but he's not perfect. He makes mistakes sometimes," Eddie mumbled, gingerly rubbing the bruise on the side of his face.

 

"So he  _does_  hurt you."

 

The statement made him wince. "Not all the time. He's getting better, it's not as bad as it used to be."

 

"Why do you stay with him, huh? Why do you put up with it?" Rey persisted, feeling helpless.

 

"I love him."

 

"Even if he beats you up and leaves bruises all over your face?" he asked, not bothering to hide the exasperated tone. "Don't you see? This isn't healthy. He's abusive, Eddie. He's not going to change. Can't you see that?"

 

Eddie shook his head. "That's not tru-"

 

"Yes, it's true! Look in the mirror, look at what he does to you."

 

He flinched at the words, shying away when gentle hands grasped his cheeks.

 

"Please, you need to get out of this..this mess, before he does something worse," Rey whispered, pulling the other latino in a hug. The thought of his best friend - of his hermano being treated like this made him want to cry and kill someone.

 

Eddie kept quiet, surprised at the embrace. He knew Rey meant well, but he couldn't leave Chris. Not when they were trying so hard to save the relationship, the other man couldn't see it - couldn't see how loving Chris can be sometimes. That was what made him think it was worth everything. "I'm tired, is it okay if I go to sleep?" he mumbled.

 

"Yeah, it's fine," Rey replied, moving across the bed as Eddie lied down.

 

Eddie crawled underneath the sheets, curling up on his side. The sensation of Rey's hands going through his hair lulled him into a dreamless slumber.

 

Rey stayed up for a little longer, watching his amigo sleep. He smiled faintly. Eddie looked so innocent and younger than his years when he was asleep. Rey settled down next to the dozing latino and entangled his fingers with the other man's.

 

Soon, he too fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Hidden Insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was your cure and you were my disease. I was saving you, but you were killing me."

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**  
  
  
**

 

Rey was woken from the bed creaking and muffled protests filling the dark room. He reached over to turn the light on and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He glanced at Eddie, seeing the distressed look on the latino’s face. _‘He’s having a nightmare,’_ Rey realized. He couldn’t make out what his friend was mumbling except for --

“Please, I’m sorry.”

He instinctively knew that the sleeping man was dreaming about Chris. His skin bristled as hot anger washed over him. If things between the two wrestlers were bad to the point Eddie couldn’t get a peaceful night of sleep …. He took in a deep breath. He couldn’t allow his rage to take over him now, he had to wake his amigo up. Very gently, he tapped on a shaking shoulder. “Eddie..”

Eddie instantly lashed out, his hand narrowly missing Rey’s face. “Stay away from me!”

Rey backed away, shocked He licked his lips anxiously and reached out again, speaking a little louder. “Holmes, wake up.”

That did it.

He sighed in relief when Eddie jerked awake, eyes staring wide at the ceiling. “Hey,” he called out softly.

Eddie looked at Rey, panting as the panic slowly died down. “R-Rey? What are you doing here?” he asked, confused. “Where the hell am I?”

“You’re at my hotel room. You came to spend the night, remember?”

His frown deepened, then he recalled the fight he had with Chris yesterday after work. “Oh, right,” he mumbled.

“Are you okay? You were having a bad dream. You can talk about it, if you want. It might help,” Rey murmured, squeezing his friend’s shoulder lightly. “You know I’m always here for you.”

“Gracias, but it was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He felt helpless when he saw Eddie’s eyes shuttered over, blocking out emotions and the other latino turning away from him. It hurt. “So,” he quipped, forcing his voice to sound light and easy, “What do you want to do today?”

Eddie shrugged. “Dunno. I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”

Frustration swam around Rey, but he ignored it. It wasn’t even that long ago when his dear friend would confide in him. Now, things were growing strained and awkward between them. He rubbed his forehead and groaned. “Okay, how about we just walk around downtown?” he offered.

Eddie glanced at Mysterio. “Walk around?” he echoed.

“Si. I can show you some cool stores and no offense, hermano, but you need some sun. You’re pale as a ghost.”

He snorted and stood up, stretching. “Alright, alright. I’ll go get ready,” he muttered.

Rey smiled faintly and laid back on the bed. It was refreshing to see his amigo’s snarkiness again. He’d worried that it was gone forever.

“I’m going to go take a shower, that okay?” Eddie asked, pointing towards the door.

“Of course,” Rey waved the other latino off. He waited until Eddie went into the bathroom before letting out a heavy exhale. He felt completely useless. He tried to get the man to understand how toxic the relationship with Chris was, but he doubt he had succeeded.

Eddie closed his eyes as warm water streamed over his body, relaxing his aching muscles. Everything was so stiff and he winced as the water pressure hit his still-tender nipple. He backed off slightly with a hiss. Chris was so...violent last night -- unusually so. The Canadian had been doing so well, they hadn’t fought for almost three weeks. This relapse was worrisome. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It wasn’t as if he had never backtracked when he was struggling to stay sober a few years ago so he shouldn’t talk. He scratched his neck, uneasiness prickling under the skin as his mind flashed back to Rey’s words last night.

_“This isn’t healthy. He’s abusive.”_

He flinched into the corner of the tub, his breathing faltering. It wasn’t true. Chris may have a short temper, but that didn’t mean the man was abusing him. He swallowed hard, averting his eyes from the dark bruises staining the wrists from where he was tied up yesterday. Rey just didn’t understand, didn’t see how much Chris love him.

Eddie quickly finished washing himself and rinsed off before he shut the water, grabbing a towel. He dried his skin and stepped out, getting into the same tank top and sweatpants that he wore last night. He mentally cursed himself for forgetting to bring a change of clothes with him, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He draped the towel back over the rack and returned to the main room.

Rey looked up when he heard the door opened. _‘That was fast,’_ he thought, flashing a quick glance at the clock. Only ten minutes had passed. “Everything okay?”

Eddie nodded, putting his jacket back on. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, “Are we going to head out now?”

Rey chuckled and stood up, closing the book he’d been reading. “Impatient as always,” he teased.

Eddie rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “How can I be patient when you take forever, holmes?” he fired back softly.

Rey feint looking hurt before laughing and picking up his keys. “Like you’re the one to talk, hombre.”

“I don’t know what you mean, ese.”

He shook his head, smiling. It felt good to see his friend being more like his old self. Rey missed the playful banter. “Come on, I gotta show you the candy factory.”

“Candy factory?” Eddie chirped, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he licked his lips.

“Candy factory,” Rey confirmed with a nod. “They got chocolate, lollipops, jawbreakers, gummy worms, and all the good stuff.”

“Then what are we waiting for?! Come on!” Eddie shouted with glee, tugging a snickering Rey out of the hotel room.

 

**  
  
**

* * *

 

**  
  
  
**

 

“See? Told you they have good junk,” Rey murmured as they drove through the bustling city. It was a busy day, people wandering around the sidewalks and cars slowing the traffic down. They were currently stuck at a red light.

“So good,” Eddie moaned, chewing on a gummy Krabby Patty. He’d spent over $50 on the stuff -- the candy should last him a few weeks, maybe a month.

Rey grunted as he got into a different lane before looking at his best friend. He couldn’t help the grin that split across his face. Eddie looked like a kid who visited Disney World for the very first time. A soft laugh escaped past his lips.

Eddie was about to ask Rey what was so funny when his phone started ringing. He pulled the cell out of his pocket and answered it. “Hola! Como estas?”

“Hey, how are you doing?”

He swallowed the candy. “Oy, Chris. I’m doing alright. I just got all this candy,” he quipped.

Rey’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel and he fought back a scowl when he heard who Eddie was talking to. In his eyes, it was better for the two men to stay away from each other, especially when Chris was clearly hurting the latino.

Eddie grabbed another piece of the gummy Spongebob Squarepants set. “Did you have a good night?” he asked, letting a hint of sarcasm edge into his words.

There was a short pause and then Chris spoke tersely. “Come home now. If you’re not here in half-an-hour, then I’ll call the police.” _Click._

Eddie stared at the phone and put it away. _‘Dios he’s in a nasty mood. This will be fun.’_

“What’s up?”

He jumped, forgetting that he was still with Rey. He gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. “Nada. Chris asked me if I could come home.”

**  
  
**

“Asked you….or did he demand it?”

He whipped his head to glare lightly at Rey. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he spat.

“He doesn’t seem to let you have a whole lot of freedom,” Rey explained, frowning a little. His hermano seemed awfully defensive, which only confirmed his suspicions that Eddie was being mistreated.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Stop the car.”

“What?”

“I said stop the car. I’ll walk home.”

“Wait, Eddie. Calm down! I’ll drop you off,” Rey snapped, grabbing his passenger’s wrist.

Eddie yanked his hand away and crossed his arms, looking out of the window. “Fine.”

Rey sighed and turned his attention back to the road. “I’m sorry, but I worry, okay?” he spoke quietly.

Eddie didn’t say anything, tuning Rey out. _‘Why can’t people just keep to themselves without butting in my life? Is that too much to ask for?’_ he thought, curling a little, wishing he could be alone for once.

Twenty minutes later, Rey pulled into the driveway of Chris’ house. “We’re here,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his disapproval. This was a mistake bringing his friend back here, he’d much rather keep Eddie away from Chris where he can make sure the other latino was safe and unharmed.

“Thanks for letting me crash at your place last night. See you around later,” Eddie said curtly, not caring if he sounded rude. Rey suddenly pulled him back when he tried to get out of the car.

“Please, listen to me. I know I pissed you off with what I’d said, but can’t you see why I’m concerned? You show up all bruised, claiming it was from work. Do you really think I’m stupid, holmes? I can see what he’s doing to you -- he’s hurting you. Can’t you see how this isn’t normal?” Rey insisted, tightening his grip on the arm when Eddie flinched. “You can deny it all you want, but this is abuse, and it won’t stop. It’s not going to stop for as long as you stay with him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Chris isn’t like that. He doesn’t hit me,” Eddie lied, not meeting his friend’s eyes as shame flowed through him.

“How long are you going to let it happen? How long are you going to keep making excuses for him?” Rey snapped.

“How about you keep your nariz out of my business?”

He stilled, stunned. Anger suddenly slammed into him. “Fine,” he said flatly, his voice cold. “So sorry that I give a fuck about you.”

Eddie bit on his lip and got out, shutting the door. He watched Rey drive off, his heart twisting. _‘Come back,’_ his mind begged, but he didn’t voice it. He bowed his head, his shoulders drooping. All he did was push people away. He sighed and turned around, going inside the house.

Chris smiled when he saw Eddie coming in. “Hello, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to return,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

Eddie laughed softly, relaxing in the warm embrace. “You always were a worrywart, ese. I’m home now so your mind can be at peace,” he teased. He was relieved to see that the other man was in a good mood - the phone call earlier had made him nervous. He placed the bag of candy on the kitchen counter before hugging Benoit back.

“Hmm, God, I miss you. I’m sorry that I hurt you last night. I feel bad about that,” Chris confessed, caressing his lover’s face.

Eddie leaned in the touch, closing his eyes contently as Chris kissed him softly. _‘If Rey could see this, then he’d understand,’_ he thought lazily, letting the Canadian push him against the wall, the kiss deepening.

A moment later, they both broke it off to get some air. “Frisky much?” Eddie laughed, his shirt being tugged up. His amusement turned into panic when he felt a hand pulling at his pants. “Chris!” he hissed, stiffening against the plaster.

Chris paused at the protest, looking up from where he’d been nipping at the collarbone. “Hm?” he grunted, lust clouding his ability to think.

“Not now, please,” Eddie mumbled, his legs starting to shake from standing so rigid.

Understanding lit up in Chris’ eyes and he backed off. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself,” he apologized, guilt wrapping around him as he watched the latino fixed the clothes.

Eddie forced the panic down, straightening himself up. At least the man had heard him, he was worried his friend would block him out like last time. A gentle peck on his left cheek dragged him out of his thoughts and he instantly relaxed -- the kiss soothing his frayed mind.

“I’m going to cook some dinner. Why don’t you watch TV and I’ll join you as soon as I put the food in the oven?” Chris suggested, smiling softly.

“Sounds like a plan, ese,” Eddie agreed, returning the smile easily. He went to sit on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and grabbing the remote.

Chris preheated the oven, going around to take the lasagna out of the fridge. He began prepping it, seasoning it up with salt before he put the tray in the oven. Setting the timer, he washed his hands and walked over to sit with Eddie. Criminal Minds was on with a new episode. He smiled. Leave it to his lover to put on his favorite TV show. He settled in more comfortably, draping an arm across the latino’s shoulder and feeling pleased when Eddie curled up against him.

A few minutes passed when Eddie’s phone rang. “Sorry,” he muttered to Chris, answering the cell with a Spanish greeting. His brown eyes sparkled and a wide grin curved his mouth up. “Hey, ese! It’s good to hear from you!” he spoke enthusiastically to the other line.

A tiny flare of jealousy flared up in Chris. The younger man never looked at him with that kind of joy -- it made him want to rip the phone away. He clenched his teeth and tightened his arm around the smaller body.

Eddie glanced at Benoit, recognizing the barely visible anger. _‘Shit.’_ He needed to cut the call short, and fast. “Sorry to interrupt. It is wonderful to hear from you, seriously. I miss talking with you, but I need to go. Los sientos,” he murmured. The other person waved off his apology with a laugh. “Alright, have a nice night, holmes. Adios.” He hung up.

“So, who was that? A friend of yours?” Chris asked, his voice falsely light and betraying nothing of what he was feeling at the moment.

“Si. I gave Ben my number yesterday and --” Eddie cut himself off, realizing his mistake. _‘Oh, Dios. I fucked up big time,’_ he thought uneasily, freezing when he felt the Canadian’s body going rigid.

“Excuse me? Did you not hear me last night when I told you not to talk to him again?!”

“Chris, he called me. I didn’t recognize the number --”

“I think you need to stop making excuses.”

“He fucking called me! It’s not like I sought him out!” Eddie protested. “And he’s just a friend, I’m not having an affair behind your back for heaven’s sake!”

Chris inhaled sharply, pinching his nose. Deep down inside he knew Eddie did nothing wrong, but he was still furious. Holding back his temper by sheer will, he forced himself to sit back and relax. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m trying so fucking hard to change, to get better, and yet you keep making me angry. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t help it when you’re constantly pushing me,” he muttered.

“It’s my fault? Seriously?!” Eddie exclaimed indignantly, but the icy glare Benoit flashed at him made him bite his tongue to prevent another round of protests. He looked away, huffing.

Tensed silence grew between them. Chris looked at Eddie again, drinking in the sight of his lover in a tight tank top that clung to the skin, showing off the muscles. “I know what will make things better,” he crooned, brushing his fingers along the bicep.

“Huh?” Eddie faced Benoit, his question being answered when lips covered his own.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Chris whispered, his tongue tracing the shape of the latino’s lips.

Nausea rose up in his throat, but Eddie swallowed it down. “I don’t think fucking will solve anything,” he argued weakly.

“I wasn’t asking,” Chris growled, picking up and carrying his surprised friend to the master bedroom.

Eddie let out a whimper when Benoit set him down on the lofty mattress and straddled his waist, gasping as teeth bit at his throat.

Chris let out a soft moan when the hips beneath him buckled, the movement sending waves of heat to his groin. He slid a hand under the shirt, kneading the firm muscles. “You feel good.”

Eddie squirmed at the sensation of the stubbled cheeks brushing over his chest and a tongue lapping at the sensitive area below his belly button. “Chris,” he pleaded, his hands digging into the sheets. “I can’t --” he choked out.

Chris didn’t hear the trembling man, mistaking the shudders as signals of arousal. He re-positioned himself between the legs, grasping the thighs and spreading them slightly apart. He began pulling the pants down, yanking them off past the ankles and tossing the sweats across the room.

Eddie freaked out, realizing what Chris was about to do. “Stop!” he snapped, trying to close his legs and turn on his side. To his dismay, the Canadian either didn’t hear him or was ignoring his protests. His panic reached new heights when Benoit’s jeans came off.

Chris jerked still in surprise when Eddie’s voice finally reached his ears in a frantic scream.

 **  
** “I said _stop!!"_

 

He snapped out of his shock, looking down and feeling confused when he saw the latino's face in tears. "What?"

 

"I told you I don't like this anymore, I fucking told you," Eddie gasped out, curling up in a ball, sobs racking through his body.

 

Chris was speechless, watching his lover turned away from him. "I don't understand. Am I not satisfying you?" he asked, gesturing helplessly. Anger started to creep up again, as well as … embarrassment. It was humiliating, seeing his lover being all friendly and affectionate with everyone while pushing him away.

 

"It's not that, it's not you -"

 

"Somehow, I think it is," Chris spat, grabbing the chin and yanking to force the other man to meet his eyes. "You'll flirt with anyone, but you don't like me fucking you? How about you stop lying and tell the truth for once?"

 

"I am telling the truth! I don't know why, but it's not -" Eddie's protest abruptly turned into a gasp when Benoit grasped his cock, fingers pushing on the head harshly and the nails rubbing against the slit.

 

Chris quickly covered his friend's mouth with his other hand to muffle the scream. "How am I supposed to take care of my needs if you're ignoring me?"

 

Eddie shut his eyes, shuddering as the Canadian massaged his flesh, bringing him to full hardness.

 

"And how long are you going to keep lying to yourself? You may be asking me to stop, but the rest of you is begging for me to continue," Chris pressed on, nipping on an earlobe. "Do you trust me, love?"

 

Eddie didn't reply at first, struggling under the pin. Then he stiffened when the fingers squeezed his swollen member. "Si, I trust you. Let me go, please," he answered hastily, shaking even more so now. His belly did a flip when Benoit kissed him softly and bit at his lower lip.

 

"Let me satisfy you. You'll thank me for this," Chris murmured, spreading the legs again.

 

"Wha- No! This isn't going to make me feel good, you'll hurt -" Eddie objected, his chest heaving when he was turned on his side. Then he wailed into the pillow as Chris shoved into him, nails gripping his hips tightly and cutting into his skin.

 

Chris moaned as his cock slid in and out of the warm, tight channel. He leaned over the smaller man, oblivious to the pained cries. "You feel good, cheri," he whispered, nuzzling against the back of the latino's neck.

 

"Get away from me," Eddie spat, trying to elbow the Canadian, but his struggles were ignored, and the way he was positioned, he couldn't land a successful hit. He gave up, collapsing on the bed.  _'Oh, what's the point? He'll just do whatever he wants,'_  he thought despairingly.

 

Chris sucked on the jugular spot on his lover's neck. In his mind, Eddie was moaning and crying out his name in pleasure - not realizing that, in reality, Eddie was writhing in pain and sobbing out muffled protests with every hard thrust. "I love you," he gasped, stiffening when his climax reached its peak.

 

Eddie let out a whine when he felt warm wetness sloshing inside and the excess trickling down between his thighs. Despite Benoit's toasty body on top of him, he felt chilled to the bones. Relief soared through him when the Canadian pulled out, but the relief turned into overwhelming nausea when his stomach twisted as the shock wore off.

 

Chris let out a startled yell when the latino moved, leaving him laying awkwardly on the bed. "Hey!" he pouted indignantly, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern and went to where he found his friend retching into the toilet. "What's the matter with you?" he asked.

 

Eddie didn't answer, another wave of bile coming up his throat. His body broke out in cold sweat and he shivered violently as he hurled again.

 

Chris sighed and grabbed a washcloth, soaking it with cold water before he draped it across the back of the neck. "You probably have a stomach virus," he murmured, rubbing the shoulders. To his surprise, Eddie wrenched away from him with a snarl.

 

"Don't touch me! Vete al corajo!"

 

He stood still, stunned by the venomous words. "W-What's wrong?" he sputtered.

 

"I told you to stop," Eddie spat, shuffling away till he hit the bathtub, the wet washcloth sliding off his neck and falling on the floor with a splash.

 

Chris' eye twitched and he glared down at the trembling man. "Hold on. You're saying this is my fault?" he growled, rage boiling under his skin.

 

Eddie averted his eyes, curling in slightly to protect himself should the Canadian lash out again. "I told you to stop," he repeated, "I didn't want it," his voice shook a little in the end.

 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Chris grumbled, staring incredulously at his old friend. "Did you not see how you were acting -"

 

"I don't care what you thought how I was acting - I told you to stop!" Eddie cut in with a shout, hurt coloring his words.

 

Chris narrowed his eyes and backhanded the smaller wrestler across the face. "Don't you ever interrupt me like that," he hissed, squatting down so that he was at eye-level. "When are you going to stop being so selfish?"

 

Eddie shied away when a hand caressed his stinging cheek. "What?"

 

"You know very well what I mean," Chris snapped, his nails digging in the bruised skin, earning a squeal. "Here I am, doing everything I can to make you happy. I'm even going to therapy so I won't hurt you, and what are you doing on your end? Running away and acting like I'm a bad guy," he continued, exhaling sharply. He closed his eyes, furiously fighting back the tears.

 

Eddie jumped when Benoit leaned in, stubble brushing against his face as warm breaths huffed out against his ear.

 

"The least you can do is let me love you."

He gasped when he felt fingers crawling up underneath his shirt and the hand palming his belly. His trembles worsened and he swallowed down a lump that had formed in his throat.

 

"Why do you keep pushing away from me?" Chris murmured, pressing himself up against the shaking body.

 

Eddie looked away, focusing on a random crack in the wall by the door, tears pooling around the edge of his eyes as the situation overwhelmed him.

 

The house phone suddenly began ringing in the living room.

 

"I better go answer that," Chris sighed, pecking the latino on the forehead as he stood on his feet. Then his eyes widened in alarm when he smell something burning. "Ah, shit. I forgot about the damn lasagna!" he cursed, racing to the kitchen.

 

Eddie didn't say anything. Only when he felt cold air whooshing in on his side did he realize that Benoit was gone. He gave out a quivering breath and shut his eyes, ignoring the tears sliding down his cheeks. After sitting in the corner for a while, he decided to take a shower - he felt hot and sickly. He took his tank top off before he climbed in the bathtub and turned the spout on with trembling hands. He sighed in relief when hot water streamed over him. It burned his skin, but he didn't pay attention to the pain; he was desperate for anything to distract him from the aches in his lower body.

 

He raised his head to let the shower to wash away the tears from his face, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of knowing that he'd been crying. He didn't know why his best friend was being such an asshole.

 

_"He's abusive."_

 

He flinched when Rey's words echoed in his mind.  _No, that isn't true._  This was just a relapse, an error in judgment. It was temporary - Chris will get over it and be loving again.

 

 _'Chris isn't abusive,'_  he thought, even as the water turned pink.

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 


	14. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PA : a wonderful fan made a video of this fanfic. You can check it out on YouTube! It's called "Eddie & Chris-Jesus Christ MV" uploaded by Ambrose Amore in case the link doesn't work [[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NrpmAIAY6I ]]
> 
>  

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**  
**

_~ April 01, 2004 ~_

 

**  
  
**

Eddie gingerly stepped out of the passenger seat, his lower back throbbing from where he’d slept awkwardly last night. He had another nightmare and he couldn’t go back to bed after waking up covered in cold sweat. The dreams had gotten worse since after the incident with Ben.

“I’ll pick you up at 10. You better be here this time,” Chris murmured, half-joking.

Eddie nodded, understanding the underlying warning of the words. “Si, don’t worry. I’ll text you when I’m done with my match,” he quipped, about to head to the locker room when his wrist was grabbed.

“No goodbye kiss for me?” Chris pouted, giving the latino the puppy eyes.

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie mumbled, leaning in to meet the Canadian’s lips, ignoring the faint revulsion washing over him. Ever since that night, he couldn’t really reconcile with himself to return Chris’ affections, but for whatever reason, the man hadn’t fucked him again. Despite the unusual peace at home, he still hadn’t been able to shake off the vague feeling of violation, and any intimate touches made him sick to his stomach.

“Maybe I can prepare a little something for us both,” Chris teased, tracing his fingers down the chest. “We could have fun tonight.”

Eddie’s throat went dry and he suppressed a shudder. He tried to find the words to tell his lover delicately. He didn’t want to go through that again, he wasn’t sure if he could survive another night doing it. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but can we not do anything tonight? Please? I just want to relax, I’ll be sore from work,” he began hesitantly, prepared to come up with anything to get out of Benoit’s plans.

Chris met the anxious brown eyes, bewildered at the request. _‘Why does he look scared?’_ he thought, confused. Then he winced internally when he recalled how he’d slapped the latino last week. _‘I need to see the doctor soon, this isn’t good. I don’t want to hurt him.’_ He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll rent a couple movies if you like,” he offered, relieved when the fearful expression was replaced with gratitude on Eddie’s face.

“That’d be nice, gracias,” Eddie agreed, thankful that the Canadian wasn’t angry with him. He jumped when he heard one of the trainers calling for him. “I gotta go, sorry. Love you, carino,” he added hastily, squeezing Chris’ hand briefly before leaving.

Chris watched the smaller wrestler walk away from him, feeling a pang of separation anxiety. He didn’t like it when Eddie was out of his sights, he preferred to have his lover with him so he can make sure there was nothing going on. He sighed and put the car back in gear, heading towards the highway.

 

 

* * *

 

**  
  
**

 

Eddie was in the process of changing into his wrestling tights when he saw his friend coming in the locker room. He averted his gaze and kept quiet, feeling awkward as he remembered how Rey had snapped at him not too long ago.

Rey didn’t say anything as he sat his gym bag down on one of the benches. A small part of him wanted to apologize for the way he acted towards the other latino, but he forced it down. If Eddie won’t listen to reason, then so be it.

Eddie pulled the tights up and fastened the strings, tucking them underneath his waistband before putting on the scarface-themed Latino Heat shirt. He gave one more glance at Mysterio, neither men uttering a word, and left the room.

Rey let out a sigh in the empty air, sitting down on the bench and planting his face in his hands. This was exhausting and beyond stressful. How could he turn a blind eye and pretend that his best friend, his hermano, wasn't being abused? He couldn’t keep silent and let it happen, but Guerrero wouldn’t listen to him. There wasn’t much he could do at the moment, and it was taking its toll on him. _‘What the hell does he even see in Chris anyways?’_ he thought angrily. It pissed him off to no ends on how the other man was acting like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. He let out a frustrated cry and punched a locker, immediately regretting it when his knuckles flared up in pain.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to break your hand?”

The unexpected voice startled him and he looked over his shoulder, recognizing Lita. “Better question is why are you in the men's room?” he countered, not answering her for now. “Last I recall, you’re on RAW, not SmackDown.”

Lita shrugged. “It’s not like I walk on you naked, so it’s not a big deal. I’m here because I haven’t seen Eddie for a while, so I wanted to check up on him,” she murmured, her brows furrowing in concern. Mysterio seemed stiff and agitated, and she hadn’t missed the sadness in Eddie’s eyes when she saw him walk out of here. “Is something going on?”

Rey snarled and turned away, his back to the red-haired diva. “Just Eddie being a idiota.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you two are fighting.”

“It’s not so much as fighting as it’s ignoring each other.”

“But why?” Lita persisted, confusion growing inside. In all the years she’d known the latinos, she’d never seen them this way with one another, not once.

“I told him that Chris is abusive. He seems to think otherwise,” Rey explained bluntly, not facing her still.

“Oh my god, you dumbass --”

“Don’t act like you don’t see it,” Rey snapped, whirling around to glare at Lita. “Don’t act like you can’t see the bruises, the way he flinches if someone snaps at him, or how jumpy he gets when he’s asleep. He’s always been a heavy sleeper - now, even the slightest thing wakes him up. And don’t you pretend none of this is happening, because it is, and that stupid moron doesn’t think Chris is doing anything wrong. He acts like he deserves all that bullshit, so don’t you fucking tell me that I should keep quiet!” he finished, breathing heavily. He hadn’t realized that he was on his feet until he’d taken a step back. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, shivering slightly as the anger wore off. “Dios, this is messed up,” he sighed. “He deserves so much better than that asshole.”

Lita swallowed, a bit shaken up herself as she saw how rattled Rey was over the situation. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t say anything, but if you tell him that sort of thing to his face, of course he’ll shut you out. You know how defensive he gets, you know how he is. He’s stubborn and he tends to love too much sometimes, to the point where he’s blind to any unfairness happening to him. You know that,” she spoke, regaining her composure.

Rey nodded. “Yeah, but it’s still ridiculous. It’s so damn obvious, yet he can’t see it. Worst part of all is that he actually thinks that bastard loves him,” he muttered quietly.

Lita hesitated, pursuing her lips. “I think he does love Eddie, he just doesn’t know how to show it properly.”

“Oh, now you’re making excuses for him too--”

“I’m not making any fucking excuses! I can see the way he looks at Eddie. He really does care for him,” she snapped.

“Are you sure that it’s love and not possessiveness?” Rey added, raising his eyebrows.

Lita opened her mouth and then closed it, seething with annoyance at the attitude. “Why should I bother when you already have it in your mind that they shouldn’t be together?” she hissed.

“Don’t you agree though? Even if he really loves Eddie, it’s not good. They’re both too short-tempered and explosive. It’s like fire with fire. Everyone gets burned,” Rey murmured. “Is it really worth the pain?”

Lita couldn’t find the words to argue, especially when she knew the masked wrestler was right. “Maybe you can take a shower and cool off while I talk to Eddie,” she said, giving up on the conversation.

“You’re gonna have to wait till after his match with Show,” Rey told her, grabbing his pants and a towel. “Talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” Lita muttered under her breath, turning around to go to the backstage area.

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie winced as he came through the curtains from the arena, his shoulder throbbing from where Big Show had clawed at it. The rest of his body wasn’t any better, sore from the assault at the hands of the Giant. He needed to check his boxers to make sure there weren't any blood stains - he tore something when he fell awkwardly from a slam. _‘What a great evening it’s been,’_ he thought sarcastically.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He bit back a groan when he heard Lita. He was definitely not in the mood for this. “Si, I’ll be fine,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively as he started to head towards the locker room.

Lita cut him off, stepping in front of the wrestler. “Oh no you don’t! I haven’t seen you for over a month and this is the hello I get?” she exclaimed lightly.

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, looking down on his feet, hiding his face from her. He was worried she’d read him and find out what had happened to him last week. He didn’t want to face any questions about him and Chris. To his relief, the brunette didn’t bring up his relationship.

“Are you and Rey fighting?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The woman really was too nosy sometimes. “I guess, it’s just a misunderstanding though,” he replied, shrugging and wincing when his shoulder protested at the movement.

Lita frowned at the casual answer. “Well, I hope you two resolve it soon. It isn’t right for y’all to be like this,” she chided.

“Eh, I’m sure it’ll pass. He can’t stay mad at me forever,” Eddie murmured, his mind already wandering over to the moment where he’ll be home and away from all the prying questions. He walked past Lita, raising a hand up in farewell. “Sorry, but I gotta go, see you around,” he added, disappearing into the locker area.

Lita stared at the door for a moment before shaking her head with a sigh. She didn’t like this, didn’t like how Eddie was putting a distance between her, and Rey as well. It didn’t suit well with her.

 

 _'Oh, somebody help us all,_ ' she prayed silently.

 

* * *

 

 

**  
  
**

Chris pulled into the parking lot of the counseling office building. Dr. Ottorman managed to squeeze him in the schedule, much to his relief. He zipped up his jacket and turned off the engine. _‘Hopefully this session will help clear my head,’_ he thought, grimacing when he stepped out of the car. Christ, it was cold - too cold for April. He went inside and made his way to the lobby, jolting his name down on the sign-in sheet. He then sat down in one of the chairs and waited.

It wasn’t long before Tony’s familiar face popped in.

“Hey there. Let’s go to the back,” Ottorman beckoned for the Canadian.

“Thanks for seeing me on such a short notice. I appreciate it,” Chris murmured, following the therapist down the hallway, feeling a tad more relaxed now.

“Of course. My day isn’t very busy, which is a bit unusual, but alas I was able to make time for you,” Tony spoke, gesturing at the couch once they made it to his office. “Go ahead and sit. What’s on your mind?”

Chris leaned back on the cushions, closing his eyes tiredly. “I’ve relapsed. Lost control,” he admitted heavily.

“Hmm, well that’s normal. Healthy, actually. You’ll backtrack every now and then, but as long as you recognize that you’ve made a mistake and work towards rectifying it, then you’re moving forward to your goal,” Dr. Ottorman commented, penciling in a few notes on his paper. “What caused you to snap?”

Chris crossed his arms, a faint scowl twisting his face as he recalled the all-too-fresh memory. “Just that I saw Eddie talking to a friend of his and acting all ... touchy feely. He hardly ever returns my kisses and he’ll push me away when I hug him. He told me a while back that he didn’t like sex anymore, said that it wasn’t because of me, but I think it is because I’m the only one he avoids,” he rambled, his cheeks burning. _‘Why me? What did I do?’_

Tony paused, concern and curiosity writhing around inside his mind. This was rather peculiar, different than the previous sessions. He sensed that his client didn’t seem to be on the same page as Eddie; it was worrying. “Can you think of why he wouldn’t want you being intimate with him?”

Chris immediately shook his head. “Not really. It’s not like I hurt him, and he never says no.”

Ottorman froze at that, taking care to keep his face neutral. Inside, however, he was horrified. _‘Jesus Christ, I hope he didn’t --’_   He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Does he keep quiet during it?”

Chris frowned, becoming confused at the question. What was the man getting at? “Yeah, he hardly ever makes a sound. Why?”

Tony closed his eyes. It seemed his fear was confirmed. “Son, silence isn't consent.”

Now it was Chris’ turn to freeze. “Hold on, what the hell are you saying?” he sputtered, growing furious. “He doesn't put up a fight. If he really doesn't want it, then he should have said no or did something.”

“I can’t tell you why he never said anything, but silence does not equal consent. If anything, you may have made him afraid of you.”

He shook his head in denial, his mind reeling. Eddie, scared of him? _‘Don’t be ridiculous.’_ “I highly doubt I’m raping him, doc,” he spat.

Tony only looked at his client calmly. “Are you sure? Think. Was there ever a moment he was talking to you, asking you to take it slow or stop, or that he was in pain? Anything that may indicate you were forcing him? That could explain why he keeps turning you away,” he pressed, trying to get the Canadian to see the severity of the problem. Rape will often destroy trust and instill fear, and he wasn’t sure how the relationship will ever become healthy, especially after this heinous act.

Chris glared at the doctor, about to tell Ottorman to shove it, when he suddenly remembered the crying last week.

_“Stop! I said stop!!”_

__

_“I don’t care how you thought I was acting - I told you to stop!”_

__

He closed his mouth, dismay wrapping around him.

 

  
_‘What have I done?’_

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie was waiting outside of the stadium, sitting at the bus stop. He glanced at his phone, irritation prickling his skin when he realized that Chris was late. “Aren’t we being a bit double standards here?” he muttered aloud, rolling his eyes. Faint uneasiness washed over him as his mind wandered over to when he would be home. He really hoped that the Canadian would keep the promise and not do anything tonight; his body was still too sore, not to mention his ass was tender.  He shivered intensely, wrapping his jacket tighter around him and folding his arms across his chest.

_‘Why can’t things go back to how they used to be?’_  he thought desperately, wishing for the time when Benoit wasn’t violent. He missed the days where he didn’t have to worry if he had to cover up another bruise or face his lover’s wrath over something petty. He let out a forlorn sigh, watching the stars glittering brightly in the moonlit sky.

Half an hour later, the familiar black truck came down the road, stopping at where he was. He got up and climbed into the passenger side.

“Sorry I’m late. I went to see my therapist,” Chris murmured, not looking at the latino.

Eddie flashed a quick look at the other man, surprise hitting him. That was unexpected. “Oh, it’s okay,” he mumbled, putting his seatbelt on.

Chris swallowed hard and put the engine in drive, his nerves rattling along with the truck, as he headed towards their apartment.

 

 

They finally made it back home two hours later, the traffic to Atlanta was a nightmare through the busy interstate. Chris pulled into the small garage and turned the truck off. The whole drive was spent in silence; Chris didn’t know what to say and Eddie wasn’t in the mood to talk, far too apprehensive about being alone with the Canadian. At least in public or around other people, the man wouldn’t hurt him. He frowned. The more he actually thought about it, Chris was perfectly normal outside of their home, smiling and being nice to him -- it was only when they were alone together that _other_  side showed itself. His body shivered again and he bit on his lower lip, feeling sick with anxiety. He knew that the wrestler promised they would relax.

But this wouldn’t be the first time that things…..got out of hand.

He let out a whimper by accident when his shoulder was gently grasped. He quickly clamped his mouth shut, embarrassed at his instinctive reaction.

Chris pulled his hand back, guilt shooting through him at the small sound.

_“If anything, you may have made him more afraid of you.”_

The counselor’s pensive warning whispered in his head, and he slowly put his arm down. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, getting out of the car.

Eddie stared wide-eyed at the wrestler. That apology was out of the blue. He shook his head, a bit baffled, and got out as well. He dropped his gym duffle bag by the kitchen, taking his jacket off and putting it on a chair. The Canadian was in the living room, sitting on the couch and staring off in space. _‘What the hell?’_  he thought, growing more and more confused. This was out of character, even for Chris. He swallowed nervously, the tight knot in his stomach clenching even more so now. He cautiously made his way to his brooding lover, praying that Benoit’s temper won’t light up again. The last thing he needed was any more bruises; McMahon and the bosses were already getting suspicious. “Chris?” he called out, hating how his voice sounded fearful.

Chris snapped out of his daze, studying the latino for a long moment, taking careful notes of the exhaustion lines under the eyes and the haunted look that his friend tried so desperately to hide, but he could see right through the act. It pierced his heart to know that he was the one who did this -- made Eddie frightened, even here in where it should be the comforts of the home. Instead, it was a battleground, and he caused the scars. Another minute of silence passed before he eventually spoke.

“We need to talk.”

Eddie froze, his mind kicking into a panicked overdrive, sorting through the memories to see if he fucked up again. _‘Is he going to hit me again? Oh, Dios, not tonight. Please.’_  “W-What?” he stammered, taking a step back. “I swear I didn’t do anything, I didn’t talk to anyone,” he began, his hysteria expanding exponentially.

Chris closed his eyes, shaking his head and standing up. “That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about this,” he explained, gesturing at the rigid posture of the latino, his soul twisting in grief.

Eddie held his breath as Benoit came closer, expecting pain. He flinched when gentle hands caressed his cheeks and then his neck, tracing a fading bruise around his throat. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could barely breathe.  _‘Is he going to beat me up or fuck me? Which is it? Just let him do it so it’s over with.’_  He shut his eyes, trembling as he waited for his lover to make a move.

“Have I hurt you that badly that you won’t even fight back?”

Eddie’s eyes opened again, flustered as the hands withdrew. “I-I don’t understand?”

“If you don’t like me hurting you, or touching you, why do you never fight me? I know you can kick my ass, but you don’t do anything. I don’t get it,” Chris sighed, sitting back down, rubbing his head.

Eddie stood still, bewildered at the words.  _‘Where was this coming from?’_   He jumped when Benoit snapped at him.

“Are you going to be quiet or will you answer me? I don’t want to play charades.”

“Sorry,” he automatically replied, chewing on the insides of his cheek. “But even if I had fought, would that have stopped you?”

Chris didn’t say anything for the longest time, his head bowed, before he let out a heavy exhale. “I suppose not.”

Eddie shuffled his feet, unsure of what he should do.

“But I do hurt you, don’t I.”

He winced at the statement, lowering his eyes. “Sometimes,” he mumbled, “but it’s not bad. I mean it’s not like it’s anything serious,” he added hastily, wanting to make his lover feel better. No matter how much pain he was in, he couldn’t stand seeing Chris so distressed. “I can handle it.”

Chris nodded faintly, going over the words slowly in his head. He glanced up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling worn out. He sensed that there was something missing --that the latino wasn’t telling him everything, but he didn’t care at the moment. “Did I hurt you last week? You were...acting strange afterwards,” he mumbled, awkwardly bringing up the subject. He knew that his counselor was right, but he wanted to confirm it.

Eddie blushed at the memory. “Ah, uh,” he stuttered, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.  _‘Why is he bringing this up?’_  “You can be a little too rough sometimes, but --”

“Would you say that I raped you?” Chris asked bluntly, meeting the startled brown eyes. He was tired, so tired.

“What the fuck, holmes?” Eddie laughed awkwardly, his skin turning ghostly pale with shock and dismay.  _‘This is nothing like Chris.’_

“If I hurt you, then it’s rape, right?” Chris murmured, swallowing a lump. He really was a monster.  _‘Who does such a thing to a person they loved?’_  he thought bitterly.

“No, ese. You were a little rough, that’s all. It’s not a big deal,” Eddie protested, sitting next to the Canadian and draping his arm over a broad shoulder. “Come on, cariño. You’re overthinking stuff. You should get some sleep.”

Chris looked at Eddie’s face searchingly. “So I didn’t hurt you? Not even the slightest?” he pressed, wanting to make sure.

Eddie forced a smile. “No, don’t worry, papi. I’m fine. Let’s just go to bed, hm?” he suggested.

“Okay,” Chris agreed, leaning against the latino and brushing his lips against the neck. “I love you, I don’t want to ever hurt you. I hope you know that, cheri,” he whispered, embracing the smaller man.

Eddie shoved his panic down, the smile becoming strained. “Si, I know that,” he reassured softly. “Come on, shall we catch some sleep? We’ll both feel better tomorrow morning.”

“Alright,” Chris sighed, taking a deep breath as relief washed over him. It felt good to know that he didn’t cause any pain. He followed the other wrestler down to the master bedroom.

 

  
_‘I promise I’ll get better. I have to.’_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

 


	15. The Seeds

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

_April 15, 2004_

**  
  
**

 

Chris glanced at his best friend who was putting away clean dishes from the dishwasher. The past couple of weeks had been...rather uncomfortable. He no longer felt like he’d caused any pain towards his lover, but he still had a hazy feeling that he’d done something wrong. His alarm on his phone began blaring and he cursed, forgetting that he had an appointment for counseling today. He looked at Eddie again, a faint spark of vague mistrust lighting up. He didn’t want to leave the man here alone. “I want you to come with me to my therapy,” he quipped.

Eddie blinked, confused at the request. _‘No, it’s an order,’_ his mind corrected. He stared at the Canadian, not understanding why. “How come? It’s not like I gotta talk to the doc,” he argued, not wanting to see that bastard again, not after the first time.

_“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your own happiness.”_

His temper threatened to take over, boiling at the edge as he remembered how the doctor suggested that he was unhappy being with Chris.

“Eddie?”

He jolted out of his thoughts, embarrassment sweeping across his flushed skin. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Chris frowned, annoyed. It irked him when the smaller wrestler tune him out. _‘How rude.’_ “I just want you to come, okay? Get dressed,” he muttered.

Eddie stood still, waiting for his friend to leave the room before he let out a shudder. Benoit had been awfully bipolar lately, swinging from smiling and joking around to yelling at him. The other man also refrained from touching him.

_“I don’t want to risk hurting you. No touches anymore, understand?”_

__

He thought that would make his mind be at peace, but he was starved for affections. He desperately missed the hugs and the caresses. It was lonely, even at night when they were in bed together. He sighed and went to change, putting on a clean pair of jeans and a white tee shirt. Hoping his outfit will be enough to satisfy his lover, he walked over to the front door where he saw Benoit waiting for him.

Chris’ eyes skimmed over the latino, arousal perking up at the voracious sight, but he ignored the lust. _‘Not now,’_ he chided himself. “Alright, let’s go,” he murmured, picking up his keys.

Shock whipped through him when his hand was grabbed. He yanked his arm away and glared at Eddie who shied away with a flinch. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

“Sorry, it’s just that you never touch me anymore --”

“And you know damn well why,” Chris cut in, shoving Guerrero back. “Everything you do sets me off, so if I don’t want to hurt you, I can’t touch you...and you can’t touch me either.”

“But --”

“No buts. Now get your ass in the car,” he ordered.

Eddie bit back another protest, getting in the truck without another word.

“I guess you feel the same way I felt when you kept pushing me away,” Chris muttered, turning the engine on. “Goddammit we’re going to be late. Why do you always do this shit?”

“How the fuck is it my fault, ese?” Eddie snapped, a bit stung at the words. Benoit was in a nasty mood, and it hurt.

“You’re always arguing and you just got to have the last word. Why can’t you just keep quiet for once?” Chris growled, his jaw clenched as he kept an eye on the road.

Eddie gaped at the man, hot anger washing over him. _‘Are you kidding me?’_ He snorted and turned away from his friend. “At least I’m not the one who hits people, holmes,” he said coldly.

Chris flinched at that, his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel till they were white. After a few minutes of silence, he glanced solemnly at Eddie. “I’m sorry. I wish I could control myself, I really do,” he whispered guiltily.

Eddie crossed his arms, a shot of regret traveling to his heart. ‘ _Why did I say that?’_ “No, I’m sorry. I know you’re just looking out for me, and I know I can be un plomazo,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around the Canadian’s. “I do love you, cariño. You just scare me sometimes,” he admitted softly.

Chris’ throat closed up and he squeezed the hand briefly. “I know. I’m sorry. I really want to get better, for our sake. I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed as well, offering a small smile.

 

 

* * *

 

**  
  
**

 

Tony was greeted with a surprise when he saw who was with his patient. He wasn’t expecting the latino to be here, especially considering how hostile the man was last month. “It’s good to see you again, Chris.”

“Thanks, doc,” Chris assented, dipping his head in greeting.

“How are you?” Ottorman asked Eddie, raising his eyebrows.

Eddie kept his eyes on the floor. An elbow to his ribs and a sharp hiss from Benoit prompted him to answer “swell” with a grumble.

Chris forced a smile, growing increasingly pissed. The attitude from his lover was unacceptable and he felt humiliated that his therapist had to witness it firsthand.

“It’s nice to see you as well,” Tony murmured, unruffled at the unenthusiastic reply. “Let’s go to my office to talk.”

Chris nodded, waiting for the counselor to turn around before he grasped his friend’s biceps harshly, drawing a wince.

Eddie froze when he felt Benoit’s mouth by his ear. The anger seething from the Canadian was conspicuous and a sliver of fear raced up his spine. Surely Chris wouldn’t hit him here, out of all places?

“Do you enjoy making me mad? We’ll talk later. Stop being an ass,” Chris breathed, leaving to follow the doctor.

Eddie stood rigid, his hands shaking by his sides as he forced himself to calm down.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

He jumped at the voice, flashing the receptionist a grin. “Si, I’m fine,” he murmured, sitting down on one of the chairs. Dread pooled in his stomach and he suddenly realized that he didn’t want to go back home with Benoit. Those words _we’ll talk later_ definitely meant that he’ll get beaten. He curled a little, swallowing hard. Maybe he’ll get lucky and Chris won’t be as angry after talking to that therapist.

**  
**

 

About an hour later, Eddie glanced up from the magazine he had been reading when he heard the door open. His breath got caught in his throat. His lover’s face wasn’t hardened anymore, but it was still far too unreadable for his liking.

“Get up, Dr. Ottorman wants to talk to you too,” Chris murmured, jabbing his thumb to the counselor.

Against his better judgment, Eddie remained in his seat. “But why? I’m not his client,” he protested quietly, lifting his chin up. If his goal was to piss his lover off, he was succeeding.

Chris twitched and he narrowed his eyes until they were icy blue slits. “Why do you have to fight over everything?” he growled, his voice the barest of a whisper.

Eddie opened his mouth, ready to tell Benoit to jack off, but then the Canadian silenced him with a kick to his ankle. He let out a groan and glared up at the man. “I’m not talking to him, no matter what you say,” he spat.

Chris growled, fury slamming into him. _‘The little fuck..’_ “Is that so?” he muttered, leaning forward to whisper something to the latino.

Eddie’s face paled and he flinched away, staring at his best friend in disbelief. “Y-You wouldn’t,” he stammered, trembling slightly.

“Keep acting like this and you’ll find out. Don’t push me,” Chris snarled.

“Is everything alright here?” Tony asked, walking over to the two men. He saw the dismayed look on the smaller man. He hoped his patient didn’t use threats -- the last thing he wanted was someone who was coerced. “You know, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to,” he offered.

Relief soared through Eddie and he was about to say that he only wanted to leave when Benoit smiled at the doctor, teeth flashing.

“Don’t worry. He’s just excited,” Chris lied, his grip on his lover’s arm tightening.

“Okay,”  Ottorman frowned, unconvinced. “Are you ready to go to my office?”

Eddie nodded reluctantly, animosity teeming inside. _‘Why do I have to talk to this pretentious bastardo?’_ he thought sullenly, trekking after the therapist.

Chris sighed and plopped himself down on the chair that Eddie was sitting in a few moments ago. He came close -- only inches away from beating the crap out of his lover. He tried so hard to manage his temper, to refrain from using his hands. He wasn’t the ‘talk it out and share feelings’ type of partner, but he tried to be for the sake of the latino. Yet the idiot seemed content to argue tooth-and-nail and to push him until he lash out. _‘It’s all his fault that you're slipping,’_ a dark voice muttered in his head, and this time he agreed.

__

_‘I’m going to have to teach him to keep his trap shut.’_

**  
  
**

Eddie leaned against the wall in Ottorman's office, too nervous to sit on the leather couch. For all he knew, he was about to get another lecture about the relationship. _‘Why does everyone think Chris is abusive? He’s not..’_ He was looking forward to taking a nice, long nap once he got home. He’d been sleeping a lot more often now when he wasn’t at work or training. He glanced up from where he’d been studying the carpet when Tony called out his name.

“How have things been between you and Chris?”

“Just fine,” he replied flatly, already disinterested in the conversation. _‘Dios help me, if he starts yapping about how I’m unhappy, I’m gonna go crazy.’_

Tony scooted closer with his chair, a sheepish expression on his face. “I want to apologize for the first time we spoke. It wasn’t my intention to offend you. I only say what I see, so I’m sorry if I upset you,” he murmured.

The apathetic look on Eddie’s face didn’t change and he shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, whatever. With all due respect, why are you talking to me again? Chris’ your client.”

Tony sighed. The attitude was still strong as ever, and while it was slightly amusing, he needed to see Eddie behind the mask. The act had gotten better since last time. “Chris wants my help in fixing the relationship, and you’re part of that relationship so your input is vital,” he explained carefully. They'd already gone over this, but it seemed he had to repeat himself.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “So you say,” he muttered under his breath. _‘This is pointless.’_

“Are there any problems between you two?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, exasperation wrapping around him at this 21-questions game. _‘I just want to go home.’_ He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Ottorman pursued his lips thoughtfully. The way the latino was putting up a wall told him that things were not fine. “Are you sure?” he pressed.

“Why does it matter to you?” Eddie groused, walking to the door, about to leave.

Tony reached out, grabbing the other man’s wrist. “Hold on, son --”

“Don’t touch me!” Eddie yelled, whirling around, his back against the wooden frame.

Dr. Ottorman paused, concerned at the terror hiding behind the wide brown eyes. “Son,” he repeated, holding his hands up, trying to come off as non threatening. “It doesn’t matter how much you pretend that everything is okay because it’s not. Let me help you.”

Eddie got his breathing under control and clenched his jaw close. “No offense, doc, but there’s nothing for you to help,” he chuckled sardonically, turning the doorknob, “Nice talking to you.”

Frustration crashed into Tony as he watched Eddie leave, and he scratched the back of his neck. He really needed to fix Eddie just as much as Chris, but he had no idea how to get the latino to cooperate.

This was definitely one of his toughest cases.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**  
  
**

Chris pushed the front door open, dragging his friend into the condo.

Eddie yelped when the fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him harshly up the stairs towards one of the empty rooms. “Wait! Chris, please, I’m sorry. Let’s just calm down and talk about this,” he pleaded, his eyes watering at the sharp pain.

“I’ve had it about up here with your attitude,” Chris muttered, shoving Eddie into the guest bedroom. “That doctor you’re so damn rude to is trying to help me, and you’re going to be disrespectful? Real classy,” he snorted.

Eddie scrambled away from the Canadian, crawling on the ground until he reached the bed frame, panting when he saw Benoit’s hands curling into fists. _‘Not today, please. I c-can’t.’_  His thoughts got disrupted at the sound of the door being locked. He looked up, icy cold seeping into his skin.

Chris swept a lamp off of the bedside table, ignoring the ceramic shattering on the floor. “I’m beginning to think that you want me to hurt you.”

Eddie hastily shook his head, his heart rate speeding up as a foot nudged his legs apart. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It won’t happen again,” he begged, pressing himself further against the bed. He flinched when the collar of his shirt was grabbed and he suddenly found himself onto the mattress. “Please, Chris, I’m sorry! I really am!”

Chris took in a deep breath and backed off, gritting his teeth. _‘Calm down, don’t do something you’ll regret.’_ He cleared his throat and turned around. “Alright. I’m going to leave you here and you’re going to think about what you’ve done. I’ll let you out when it’s time for dinner,” he said before opening the door.

“What? Wait, it’s only 11:00. You can’t just leave me here for six hours --” Eddie started to protest, the words dying on his tongue as the door slammed shut. He closed his mouth, exhaling quietly as fear returned, leaving him shaking on the bed.

 

  
_‘What the hell?’_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie paced around the guest room, fuming. This was ludicrous, even for Chris. He went to the door and banged on it loudly. "Hey! You can't leave me in here all day, pendejo!" he shouted, not caring if he made the Canadian angry again; he was beyond that point now. The past two hours had ticked by dreadfully slow and the boredom was driving him insane. "Come on, Chris," he muttered, sitting down with his back resting against the wooden frame.

 

Chris ignored the yelling, turning the volume up on the television. The latino didn't understand at the moment, but this was a lesson. A lesson he hoped would teach his lover to be quiet. He scratched his chin, sighing. He didn't expect it to go this far, but at least he avoided carrying out a beating that he would normally do. _'And that asshole isn't even grateful,'_  he thought broodingly. No matter how hard he tried to better himself, it wasn't good enough for the other man. He glanced out of the window, noting how the weather was decent with the sun shining and clear blue skies. Maybe some fresh air will help him clear his head. He stood up, putting his jacket on and grabbing his keys.

 

Eddie's ears pricked when he heard the front door opening and slamming shut. _'Where's that bastardo going?'_  He hastily got onto his feet and walked over to the window. He spotted Chris backing out of the driveway and leaving. _'For the love of Dios..'_  He gritted his teeth, fury slamming into him. Great. Now he was stuck in the house, locked, with nothing to eat. "Thanks a lot, Benny," he muttered under his breath. At least there was a bathroom in this room, so that was a small blessing. He laid on the bed, counting the cracks along the ceiling.

 

After a while, he put his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Maybe he could find some coins to play with. Surprise and joy came over him when his fingers brushed along the familiar sleek shape of his cell phone. _'Yes!'_  He quickly pulled it out, grinning like a kid who just opened his favorite present at Christmas. "Thank Dios," he breathed, sighing in relief; his phone had a full battery. Then he hesitated, biting down on his lip. Who could he talk to? Lita and Rey-Rey would just keep asking him about Chris, and he wasn't in the mood to discuss anything about the Canadian. He fiddled with the cell, uncertain of what he should do. Copeland showed up in his contact list and he paused for a minute before calling the blond man. Adam was the only one in their group who didn't seem to be suspicious of Benoit, so a conversation shouldn't be terribly uncomfortable.

 

It wasn't long until Copeland answered with a cheerful "hello!" after a couple of rings.

 

Eddie smiled slightly. "Hola, Edge. How you doing, ese?" he asked, the other man's nickname easily slipping off his tongue. He realized that he genuinely missed talking to his former co-worker. Adam was a lot of fun and full of positive vibes, vibes that he desperately needed right now.

 

"Same old, same old. Just watching Jerry Springer," Adam chirped, guffawing at the lady who tackled her soon-to-be ex husband who was sleeping with her mother. "I don't know why you don't watch this, man. It's comedy gold!"

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh. "It's trash, holmes. Full of people who don't want to take any responsibilities for their actions. I'll pass."

 

"Your loss then. Ah, did Rey give you 'the talk' yet?"

 

He blinked.  _'The talk? What the hell?'_  "Sorry, what?" he asked, confused.

 

"He didn't bring it up? That's good, I guess. I know the guy means well, but still -"

 

"Adam," Eddie cut in the rambling "What are you talking about?"

 

"He was gonna tell you to break up with Chris. I told him he's out of his mind," Adam explained, downing the chocolate milk as the reality show changed into a bunch of commercials.

 

Eddie was speechless for a moment, scowling. _'Seriously..?'_  "Oh wow, isn't that nice of him?" he spat, his voice biting with sarcasm.  _'Why is everyone like this? Chris' done nothing wrong.'_

 

_'Come on, that's not true now.'_

 

He shook his head, pushing away the lingering thought. He shouldn't dwell on it, but the vague feeling of doubt washed over him. The Canadian seemed to be backtracking an awfully lot these days despite the weekly counseling visits - the therapy must not be working anymore. If things continued like this …

 

"Rey means well. Don't get the wrong idea, but the kid doesn't get it, you know?"

 

Adam's words stirred him out of his musing. "Los sientos," he murmured sheepishly, scratching his head. "Say that again?"

 

"He doesn't get it," Copeland repeated, stretching out on the couch. "He doesn't understand that only you can decide to stay or leave. If you trust and love old Benny here that much, then that's that. He just gotta respect your decision in the end."

 

Enormous relief slammed into Eddie. It was refreshing to have someone on his side in this whole misunderstanding. "Gracias, amigo," he whispered softly. "I appreciate it."

 

"Yep, yep. Oh shoot, it's 1:30 already? Sorry, man. I gotta go, got a training session at the gym. I'll see you around!" Adam spoke, hurriedly yanking his suitcase from underneath the bed to change clothes.

 

"Si. Adios, ese," Eddie murmured, waiting for the telltale sound of the other end clicking before he hung up. He plopped back down on the bed, sighing heavily. Hopefully Chris will be back soon. He was hungry.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_7:05 P.M Eastern Standard Time_

 

 

"That's it, no more drinks for you, buddy!"

 

"Huh?" Chris mumbled, dazed as the bartender took his drink away. "Don't be a jerk," he whined, reaching out for his glass.

 

Bobby rolled his eyes and put the drink under the counter. "That's enough, dude. I'm not about to let some alcoholic poison himself to death."

 

"I'm not an al-koholick," Chris slurred angrily, slamming his fists on the table, his eyes red.

 

"You've had over twenty drinks in the past five hours. It's a miracle you're still alive and standing. Do yourself a favor and go home and sleep it off. You're gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow."

 

He growled low in his throat, one millimeter away from climbing over the counter and punching the smug jerk in the face. Suddenly he swayed on his feet and he had to sit down for a moment as nausea shot up in his mouth.

 

"Gimme your keys," Bobby demanded, holding out his hand.

 

"What?!" Chris exclaimed. "Yer out of yer mind!"

 

"What makes you think I'm about to let a drunk drive? I'm not stupid and I don't need this bar to get sued thanks to some dumbass who can't tell his dick from the clutch. Give it up," Bobby snapped.

 

"Whoa, Chris? I never thought I would see you here!"

 

"Uh?" Chris grumbled, turning around and squinting his eyes as the two blobs came towards him.

 

"It's me, Dave!" Batista greeted the Canadian, smiling. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would see his idol in a bar out of all places.

 

"Oh, hey there, animal."

 

"I'll drive you home, safe for everyone, no?" he offered, winking at the bartender.

 

Bobby relented, shrugging his beefy shoulders. "So long he's not the one behind the wheels."

 

Dave grinned and led his stumbling co-worker to the dim-lit parking lot. "Easy there, crippler," he admonished softly. "You have a black Ford truck, right?"

 

"Mmhmm," Chris grunted, fumbling for the keys and handing it to Batista.

 

Once they got into the vehicle, Dave made sure that both of their seat belts were fastened before he turned the engine on. "Where are you staying at?" he asked cheerfully.

 

"That condo place near the lake by the highway," Chris answered sleepily, resting against the door.

 

"Alrighty," Dave murmured, driving along the state route. He glanced at the wrestler who was passed out. He'd never seen Benoit sip anything alcoholic, let alone get this wasted, but he knew better than to ask. The Canadian was an extremely private person outside of work and never talked about anything personal. He decided to let the man sleep on the way rather to bother with questions about things that were none of his business.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie was curled up tightly into a ball, hunger pangs growing more and more painful with each passing moment. _'Dios, where the hell is he?'_  he thought, whimpering as another strong cramp seized him. It was already almost 8. He shuddered and turned on his other side, sweat damping his hair. He hadn't had anything solid to eat for over twelve hours now and he was starving. Lights shone on the wall and he lifted his head weakly to spot Chris' truck pulling into the garage. _'Finally.'_

 

He made his way to the door, about to bang on it when he heard an unfamiliar voice. He paused, frowning. _'Who the hell? Did someone steal the car?'_  He pressed his ear against the frame, recognizing Chris' soft words along with the other person's booming ones.  _'What?'_

 

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" Dave asked, placing the keys on the coffee table.

 

"No, I'm good. Thanks though," Chris mumbled, yawning. He just wanted to sleep.

 

"Okay, I'll see you later. Don't forget to eat a lot of greasy food and sleep to get rid of that hangover tomorrow, you hear?"

 

"Will do."

 

Dave shook his head, smiling as he left, calling a cab to come pick him up.

 

Chris was about to doze off, his head throbbing, when he heard a knock.

 

"Cariño, you there?"

 

He grimaced, forgetting that Eddie was locked up here. _'God, I just want peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask for?'_  he thought grumpily.

 

"Come on, let me out! I'm hungry."

 

Chris groaned. That idiot never shuts up. He stood back onto his feet and walked to the door, taking the key out of his shirt pocket.

 

Eddie stood back as the door opened. He glared hotly at Benoit. "About damn time! Where the fuck have you been? I'm starving," he complained, about to head to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat.

 

The next thing he knew, he was sprawled out on the floor, his ears ringing. He swallowed back blood and glanced up, fear crashing into him when he saw the glazed blue eyes. _'Oh, Dios. He's drunk,'_  he realized shakily. He cautiously shuffled backwards to get on his feet, making a wide berth around the man. "Chris..?" he asked carefully, "You with me, papi?"

 

Chris growled and lashed out, his nails raking over the latino's cheek. "How long are you going to keep yapping?!" he shouted.

 

Eddie was paralyzed against the wall, his breaths coming out in short gasping puffs as blood trickled down from the cut. _'This isn't good.'_  He tried again, reaching out for the Canadian, praying he can reach to his lover this time. "Chris, cariño. Please calm dow-"

 

"I said shut up!"

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 


	16. Repentance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Doesn't it hurt when someone that made you feel so special yesterday makes you feel so unwanted today?"

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

"Chris, cariño. Please, calm dow-"

 

"I said shut up!"

 

Eddie flinched when a fist slammed into the wall, only a hairbreadth away from his face. Panic pushed up in his chest and he fought the urge to flee.  _'Why is he so pissed?'_  he thought, anxiety making his hands shake by his side.

 

Chris was panting heavily, his head pounding and nausea starting to rise up again. All he wanted was to sleep, but thanks to his selfish lover, he wouldn't be able to have any peace. "Do you always have to run your damn mouth?" he asked grumpily.

 

Eddie inhaled quietly, closing his eyes to regather himself. _'Just be calm. Keep him happy.'_  He swallowed and tried again. "I'm sorry," he murmured, standing perfectly still as he waited for the Canadian to make a move. He had no idea what Benoit wanted him to do, but he hoped he was fulfilling his friend's strange request.  _'Please don't let him hit me,'_  he prayed silently, forcing his fear down.

 

Chris narrowed his bloodshot eyes, the alcohol robbing him the ability to think coherently. He leaned forward, his nose bumping against the latino's. "How about you shut the fuck up?" he growled harshly.

 

Eddie shrank away from his best friend, terror making him break out in cold sweat. He licked his lips, trying to find the words to soothe the other man's drunk-fueled temper. "Cariño, you're scaring me. Why don't you go to bed? I'll leave you alone, te prometo," he offered, his voice light and soft. _'Please.'_

 

Chris hesitated for a moment, cocking his head slightly to one side. He was tired. "Well, alright. So long you keep quiet," he conceded.

 

Eddie let out a muted sigh of relief, relaxing from his tensed state. "Gracias. Bedroom is this way."

 

"I know where the damn room is."

 

"Okay okay. Los sientos," he hastily apologized, holding his hands up. He met the blue eyes warily as Benoit glared at him before the drunk wrestler turned around and stumbled towards the master bedroom. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks.  _'Dios, was I like that before?'_  he wondered, his mind flashing back to the days before he became sober and clean. He didn't remember much, far too wasted and drugged out most of the time. He couldn't help but ponder if he put Chris through similar ordeals back then. He shuddered and went to the room, dismissing the thoughts. He saw the Canadian struggling to get the shoes off. "Here, let me help you," he murmured, going over and getting on his knees to untie the sneakers.

 

Fury washed over Chris and he kicked the latino in the chest. "I can do it myself!" he spat, humiliation crashing into him - how dare the smaller man patronize him like this?!

 

Eddie cried out at the pain that flared up from where the heel of the shoe shoved against his collarbone. He thought he felt something crack. "What the fuck, ese? That hurts!" he snapped, his eyes watering as he met Benoit's eyes, matching glare for glare.

 

"You fucking piece of shit," Chris swore, getting off of the bed and yanking his lover up by the collar of the shirt.

 

"Seriously, what's your problem? I was only trying to help you, you pendejo!" Eddie snarked, twisting in the grip. He lashed out, catching Benoit right below the eye. He went deathly still as he realized what he'd just done.

 

Chris' face had snapped to the right from the force of the blow and he could feel blood streaking down from the cut. He slowly turned his head to glower at Eddie who was trembling. "Did you just hit me?" he asked, the softness of his voice belying the rage.

 

"I-I," Eddie stammered, recoiling away when his hair was snatched and he was jerked upwards to face the icy gaze.

 

"You're going to be lucky if this doesn't scar," Chris spat, his fist colliding into the cheek bone, earning a pained cry.

 

Eddie crashed onto the ground, curling up to protect himself when Benoit stepped closer. "Wait, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Chris, I'm sorry!" he pleaded frantically, shying away when the other man pulled him up by his wrist harshly.

 

Chris ignored the latino and shoved him against the wall, the drunken haze slowly clearing as his anger grew.

 

Eddie yelped as the back of his head slammed against the pasture, blinking his eyes to stop the room from spinning. He accidentally bit on his tongue, blood swelling in his mouth. He coughed and choked, twitching as he struggled to breathe. "C-Chris," he gasped out, the edges of his vision graying as he was slammed into the wall again.

 

"I'd say you're asking for a beating," Chris snarled, his face twisting in anger. He just wanted to sleep. He was tired of putting up with the latino's impudence. He was tired of everything. He dragged the thrashing man over to the middle of the room near the bed. "Why should I bother getting better if you're just going to piss me off?"

 

Eddie couldn't say anything, whimpering when the hand in his hair tightened, his chest constricting in panic. _'No, no. Please. I can't hide any more bruises.'_  He fought half-heartedly, clawing at Benoit's arms. "No! It's not that, I swear. Please, just calm down," he begged, digging his feet into the carpet to try and slow the Canadian down, but it only made Chris yank him harder. Tears began filling up his eyes as he gasped, hiccups starting to pop up.

 

Chris didn't pay attention to his lover's pleas and shoved Eddie onto the floor, delivering a kick to the side. Satisfaction swelled up inside him at the sharp cry.  _'Serve him right,'_  he thought darkly, drawing his leg back up.

 

Eddie folded into himself a bit in an attempt to shield his exposed ribs from any more acts of violence. He never felt so … vulnerable. He shouted out when he felt something hard connected his lower back and he became increasingly distressed. If Benoit kept attacking that area, he wouldn't be able to wrestle for months. He shuffled away from the bigger wrestler only to earn more kicks and punches as Chris moved to sit down on him, straddling his hips.

 

Chris paused for a minute, panting as he took in the sight of the younger wrestler's face covered in blood and tears, bruises blossoming over the skin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his fist as he caught his breath. The red rage was gradually dying down, but he wasn't sated yet.

 

Eddie laid still to make himself appear smaller and less of a target for Benoit's fury. His lungs were almost nonresponsive and he couldn't get enough air in. He instinctively let out a whine when he was lifted off the ground by his shirt. The right side of his jaw was swollen and he could feel a stickly sort of dampness around his ear. Tremors rippled through his frame when he was brought closer to Chris' face and he closed his eyes, too cowardly to meet the cold blue orbs.

 

"Do you enjoy making me mad?"

 

He shook his head, shivering underneath the Canadian. An open palm smacked his cheek and he flinched away with a muffled squeak.

 

"No? Then stop talking so much. You're practically wasting oxygen around here," Chris muttered, the drunken haze returning as he pushed the latino off. He stood up, flashing a disgusted glance at Eddie who remained on the floor. "You're a mess," he growled, throwing the smaller man out of the room. "I'm going to bed, don't bother me." He rubbed his eyes tiredly and returned to the mattress.

 

Eddie jumped at the door being slammed shut. He swallowed thickly and struggled to make it to his feet, noting how his wrist was beginning to swell up from where Benoit had stomped on it. He ignored the tears streaking down his face as he walked towards the kitchen, clumsily grabbing the first aid kit.

 

Half an hour later, he was done treating most of his injuries. His wrist seemed to be sprain at worst and the cuts on his face should be easy enough to hide from work. The ribs and breastbone, however, were a different story altogether. He had no choice but to get them checked out by a doctor. He sighed heavily, wiping away the drying blood with a wet paper towel. "Dammit, Chris," he cursed under his breath. McMahon and the others won't be happy, and he had no idea how he could explain what happened without getting Benoit in trouble. After a moment of indecision, he pushed it aside.  _'It can wait till tomorrow,'_  he decided, exhaustion sweeping over him. He walked stiffly over to the couch and laid down, pulling the dark gray blanket over his aching body. Right now, he just wanted to sleep. His eyes closed and he yawned, praying that everything will be better by the morning.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Chris woke up in the middle of the night, his headache worse now. He rolled over and stared blearily at the clock.

 

_3:42_

 

He smacked his lips, throat parched as he sat up. The alcohol buzz still hadn't faded from his system and he felt dizzy. "What the fuck happened?" he murmured aloud, massaging the side of his head as he tried to recall what led him to drink in the first place. He rarely touched beer or wine, not all too fond of the taste. So, what made him get wasted? It'd been so long since he drank this much and he could tell that the next day won't be pretty. He gave up, too sick to bother thinking about what had occurred earlier. He looked around, loneliness wrapping around him when he noticed Eddie wasn't with him.

 

He got out of bed and made his way to the living room, almost tripping down the stairs. He stopped by the couch, watching the latino doze. _'He really is beautiful,'_  Chris realized, smiling softly. He reached out and cupped a cheek, thumb caressing the stubbled skin. He frowned when he saw dark blotches along the jawline and several cuts on the face and chest. _'Where did those come from?'_  he wondered, his eyes going down to where the wrist was bandaged up in tape. He gnawed on his lips, trying to figure out how the younger wrestler got into a fight. "Who did this to you?" he whispered, brushing his lips against the other man's forehead.

 

Eddie stirred faintly, his eyebrows furrowing and a pained moan escaping as his slumber was disturbed.

 

"Shh, don't worry. I'll make you feel better," Chris promised, smiling again as he gently climbed over the smaller body, a hand stroking the front of the latino's pants. He felt Eddie move, the moans turning into whimpers. He studied the face again, but his lover was still asleep - albeit distressed. He kissed the lips softly, tenderly spreading the thighs as he moved down.

 

Eddie whined, growing more and more fitful as his dreams gradually turned into a nightmare. He kept fighting, but hands from the darkness kept touching him and he couldn't stop it.

 

Chris carefully removed the sweatpants and lavished the member with affections, not seeing the hands fisting in the cushions or hearing a strangled, terrified gasp. He got out of the jeans he'd fallen asleep in and spat in his palm, readying himself.

 

The nightmare became more and more vivid, much to Eddie's alarm as the hands grew more invasive. Then there was a sharp, tearing pain.

 

He woke up with a jolt and he felt it.

 

Shallow thrusts inside him.

 

Before he could stop himself, a scream ripped out of his throat and he blindly strike out into the darkness. He heard a surprised grunt and nails dug into his hips, pulling him closer.

 

"What's the matter with you?"

 

He froze up at the grumble, a dismayed sound making its way past his trembling lips. _'No. Not this. Please let this be another dream.'_  He struggled again, trying to throw the Canadian off. "Stop! You're hurting me, get off!" he spat, hysteria edging its way at the words as he punched the broad chest.

 

There was a pause, and a brief flash of hope sparked in Eddie, a hope that Chris might listen to him this time.

 

Then hands grasped his hair and slammed him against the tough, wooden part of the armrest again and again and again until his vision swayed. He went limp on the couch, staring dazedly at the ceiling as his head spun. There was some sort of dampness in his hair. _'Am I bleeding..?'_  He vaguely heard Chris muttering.

 

"Fucking ungrateful asshole."

 

He tried to focus on the words, but his ears were ringing and everything just hurt. He cried out, his back arching slightly off of the seat, when he felt the head of Benoit's cock rammed into the wall of the muscles rather than thrusting into the entrance. A burning sensation flared up and a shriek tore out as the movement continued, the intensity of the pain increasing with every lunge. He must be imagining it, but he swore Chris was doing it on purpose. A mouth covered his own, all teeth and no mercy. He felt his lip split and blood trickled down his chin as he gagged.

 

Eddie must have been out of it more than he realized because suddenly, it was over. Benoit pulled out and he could feel sticky wetness sliding out, the muscles of his thighs twinging from where he'd been trying to scissor his legs shut. He drew back with a wince when he was slapped across the face, Chris leaving to return to the bedroom with a muffled growl. He shivered, coldness seeping into his clammy skin as the shock wore off. He felt light-headed and sick as he panted, his chest hitching with every inhale. The part of his brain that remained sane told him he was having a panic attack. He got up in a sitting position and clutched at the front of his shirt, sobs spilling out while he tried to breathe properly.

 

"Oh my god, will you shut the hell up?!"

 

He jerked at the shout, his heart hammering wildly, and clamped his mouth shut. He brought his legs up and tucked his face in his knees, trying to shut everything out. He wheezed quietly and hugged himself, riding out the panic as it slowly subsided. He knew he needed to change, but the rest of his clothes were in the room where Chris was. He curled up tighter, feeling dirty and ashamed.

 

He didn't go back to sleep that night.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The cloudy morning drifted into the early afternoon of the day, sunlight filtered through the curtains, the rays shining down on Chris. He woke up with a groan, his head practically pulsating now. He hastily closed the blinds and put his slippers on, shuffling to the kitchen to get some aspirins. He blinked in surprise when he saw Eddie on the couch. The latino had dark circles under the eyes and was covered completely in bruises. "You look like shit," he commented dryly.

 

Eddie didn't reply, staring off into space. He hadn't moved since Benoit woke him up hours before. His joints were screaming at him and his muscles had long since went numb, his hair was crusted with dried blood and everything felt stiff.

 

Chris frowned at the lack of response, but didn't say anything else. At least it was quiet so he could recover in peace. He swallowed the pills down, washing the bitter taste away with cold water. He wiped his chin off with a towel and went to sit down next to his friend. "So, who did this to you?"

 

Eddie glanced at Benoit blankly. "You don't remember?"

 

The hoarse voice and the empty dark brown eyes made Chris worried. This was uncharacteristic of the other man - Eddie was acting like something terrible had happened. "What do you mean?"

 

"You got drunk last night and -" Eddie cut himself off, unable to continue. He looked away sharply and stood up, bolting upstairs into the bedroom. He couldn't stand being in the other man's presence any longer as the fear came back tenfold.

 

Chris was baffled when Eddie ran away from him, hearing the door locked. He stared at the direction for a moment before scoffing. "Holler at me when you're done being weird!" he yelled, rolling his eyes.  _'What's up his ass?'_  he thought, confused. Nothing made sense. He sighed and laid down on the couch, closing his eyes. He might as well enjoy the silence while it lasted.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Benoit turned the TV off, bored and frustrated. His headache hadn't gotten any better or worse, and it'd been about three hours since Eddie hid into their room and locked Cthe door with no explanations. He glanced towards the direction where the Latino had taken off earlier, narrowing his eyes. The bruises he saw on his lover bothered him and he wanted to find out who hurt the smaller man so badly, yet a nagging thought at the back of his head reminded him that he would get pissed off. He had to concede that it was possible; Eddie seemed to push his buttons like no others could, and the risk of his temper coming to life was all too real. At the same time, however, he had to try and figure out what happened yesterday. Mind made up, he stood and walked to the second floor, knocking on the door after a pause.

 

"Cheri?" he called out, "You okay in there?"

 

There was a minute of silence, and then -

 

"Go away."

 

Chris sighed, expecting this response. His best friend always blocked others out when upset, although it'd been years since Eddie's distress was _this_  bad.  _'What triggered this?'_  he wondered. He cleared his throat and pushed again. "Come on, dear. Don't shut me out like this. I can help," he whispered softly.

 

"What makes you so sure you can help, pendejo?"

 

He winced at the spiteful spat. He didn't remember much of yesterday, other than the drive to the bar. Whatever had happened, his lover clearly blamed him. "I'm your friend, aren't I?" he pestered awkwardly, " _Amigo,_  remember? Even if I can't help, let me try at least."

 

That seemed to get through. He could hear shuffling noises on the other side and then the door opened. He faced the hurt behind the brown eyes as Eddie glared at him. He stepped into the room, forcing a smile. "So, what's going on?"

 

Eddie snorted and crossed his arms, lowering his gaze to the floor. "You seriously don't know?" he muttered. _'How convenient.'_  He pushed the uncharitable thought aside and shifted his feet self-consciously. He knew it was wrong to blame the Canadian who was intoxicated at the time; it wasn't fair to the man whose actions were made in an alcoholic-influenced fever. "You were drunk and you weren't exactly agradable," he said softly, keeping his eyes averted.

 

Chris' brows furrowed. He wasn't fluent to his partner's language, but he understood the tone well enough to grasp the meaning behind the word. "What did I do?" he didn't want to ask, too fearful of what answer he might receive in return.

 

Eddie couldn't help but bark out a bitter laugh. "What do you think, papi?" he scoffed, gesturing to the array of bruises all over his body and to the bandaged wrist. It was cruel, but he was too sore and exhausted to bother caring if he hurt his friend's feelings. He took a step back when Benoit's eyes darkened with exasperated anger, anxiety drumming in his chest and yet strangely enough, relief coursed through his skin. After what Chris had done after their fight, he was finding that he much preferred the rage over the lust - the fists over the intimate caresses.

 

Just as quickly as it'd appeared, Chris' fury died and he sighed, guilt wrapping around him. "I'm sorry. I wish I could remember, but I can't. Did I do anything else?" he murmured, glancing at the Latino forlornly.

 

Eddie hesitated for a brief second before shaking his head. He saw no point in mentioning that particular event; Benoit would only say that it was his right, that Eddie shouldn't complain and instead take it as a compliment. It wouldn't be seen as a bad thing. The realization stung Eddie and if he was honest with himself, it hurt how Chris thought his consent wasn't necessary.

 

Chris nodded, relieved. Then he frowned, growing annoyed. If all he did was lash out, how come Eddie was acting like this? It was childish and ridiculous, the shorter wrestler could put up with a fight. It wasn't as if he'd caused any permanent damage. "How long are you going to keep acting like a baby then?" he snapped out irritability.

 

Eddie flinched, startled by the sudden change in mood. He stared at Benoit with wide eyes. "What?"

 

"All I did was get a little rough with you. You're not helpless, so stop acting like I'm some evil bastard."

 

A sheepish feeling slammed into Eddie and he looked away, biting on his lip. The Canadian was right. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, starting to turn away to leave.

 

"And you've treated me worse back in the days before you got clean."

 

The words stopped him cold in his track.

 

"Yeah. You don't remember? You'd scream and beat the shit out of me every time you came in stumbling through the door. I never said a word because I knew you were just drunk. I never complained. The difference is that you were an alcoholic. I get loaded one time and accidentally hurt you, and what do you do? You whine and throw a fit and get all pissy," Chris growled, grabbing the latino's shoulders and forcing his lover to look at him. "Stop playing the victim card. You're not one. You're just a selfish bastard who refuses to take responsibility for yourself."

 

Eddie went limp in the hands fisting his shirt, defeated and on the edge of tears.

 

Chris' guilt died off and for an irrational moment, he wished he could recall yesterday just so he could feel the impact of his fist hitting Eddie. He was tired of trying to satisfy someone all the time who never showed a single ounce of gratitude.

 

"'m sorry."

 

He barely heard the soft words. He rolled his eyes and snorted skeptically. "Shut it, Guerrero," he snapped, shaking the smaller body in his grip. "We both know you don't mean it. Not then, not now."

 

Eddie trembled, feeling horribly ashamed and knowing Benoit was right. He'd been a poor excuse of a friend and hadn't bothered trying to redeem himself. "What do you want me to do?" He could try to make it up to the man, even if it was far too late.

 

Chris paused for a minute, not expecting the question. He pursued his lips thoughtfully. It _was_  about damn time. "Perhaps start by helping out more around the house and pulling your own weight. I'm trying hard, I really am, but I can't do everything and I'm certainly not the only problem. You're not exactly without fault, you know," he replied gruffly, letting go of the other wrestler.

 

Eddie stumbled away, nodding faintly. "I understand," he murmured quietly. He needed to own up to his flaws; it wasn't right for him to criticize Chris when his own hands were just as dirty if not more so.

 

"Glad you're listening for once," Chris muttered, biting the urge to slap the latino for taking so long to catch up. "Also, no more smart ass remarks about the therapist. I'm sick of you and your fucking attitude," he added harshly.

 

Eddie barely suppressed a flinch, his gaze fixated on a hole in Benoit's pants around the knee. It hurt when Chris spoke to him like this, like he was nothing more than a pile of trash, but he didn't argue. "Okay."

 

"Good. Do me a favor and clean up the place. It's a mess. I'm going to take a nap," Chris ordered, laying down on the bed with a groan as his headache returned with a vengeance.

 

Eddie obediently left the room, closing the door until it was a creak. He looked around the condo, drained and suddenly empty now that the confrontation was over. He picked absently at a cut on his biceps as he walked around the living room aimlessly, lost in his own thoughts.

 

An hour later, he'd tidied their home a bit, throwing out the trash bags and cleaning the dishes. All that was left to do was vacuum, but he was wary of awakening the Canadian - Chris was not someone to bother in the middle of a nap. He stared out of a window near the kitchen, his mind wandering as he daydreamed of the past. A nostalgic feeling swept over him, embracing his body like how his mother would wrapped him in a hot towel fresh out of the dyer on a rainy afternoon. He went to stretch, wincing when his sprained wrist protested at the movement once he'd flexed it. He studied the bruises, smiling faintly. _'I'm like a niño pequeño that's full of scratches,'_  he thought fondly. He gazed back outside again, his eyes drifting over to the familiar dark blue shape of his car.

 

He'd miss driving - Chris took his keys away long ago, claiming he couldn't be trusted. He sighed, fingers itching to touch the steering wheel again.  _'Don't. It's stupid,'_  the voice warned him; he'd only be yelled at again. The urge became too strong and he quickly grabbed a piece of paper, writing a short note explaining how he'd went out for a drive and would be back soon. He left it on the fridge and took his keys out of the drawer next to the stove, going outside. He was practically bouncing with giddiness as he walked up to his car. "Miss me, cariño?" he purred softly, running his hand along the sleek surface. Yes, it'd been far too long.

 

He climbed into the driver's seat, relishing in the feeling of finally being in control of something. He turned the vehicle on, the engine quietly humming to life. He relaxed, sighing as his car vibrated and rumbled. "I miss this," he murmured to himself. Deciding that he better hit the road before he woke Chris up, he put the gear in reverse and backed out of their driveway.

 

 

He'd been driving for the past two hours with the windows down and the radio blaring on max as he cruised along the highway. For the first time in weeks, he felt carefree without a worry in the world. There was no yelling, no screaming, no prying friends, no suspicious looks. Just him and the open road. He was finally free. He hummed along to the song playing on the station 99.7, his fingers drumming and left foot tapping playfully. He glanced at his dashboard, crestfallen when he saw that he was low on fuel. He didn't have any money on him (Chris insisted that they share the same bank account, effectively cutting him off of financial independence). Eddie reluctantly changed lanes and began making his way back home, already growing nervous. He dug his phone out of his pocket, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he realized that he had five missed calls from Benoit.  _'Yeah, this won't be good.'_  He swallowed a hard lump down his throat. The euphoria of his brief freedom quickly wore off, being replaced with an overpowering sense of dread. This little trip was silly, and there would definitely be repercussions for his foolish choice. _'And he said I needed to stop being childish,'_  he remembered, dismayed. The chance of Chris just yelling at him and not going far to the point of beating him up were...marginally slim. His hands shook where they grabbed the steering wheel and his breathing turned unsteady. "Dios, I'm an idiota."

 

Eventually Eddie made it back to the condo, pulling into the garage and hitting the button to close it, trying to ignore the trapped feeling. He took the keys out and sat back, shivers racing through him. He couldn't go back inside yet. Not when he was still so shaken up. He jolted in his seat when the door slammed open and he was greeted with the sight of Chris glaring at him furiously, blue eyes icy with cold fire. He shrank when the Canadian stalked towards his driver's side, the shivers turning into violent flinches that matched the footsteps.

 

He suddenly wished he didn't come home.

 

A foreboding silence fell upon the two men as Chris opened the driver's door and stared down at Eddie, the air stiff and crackling with tension.

 

"Get out of the car."

 

Eddie shifted in his seat, not wanting to leave the safety of the sedan. "Chris," he started, instantly regretting opening his mouth when Benoit's face darkened and a hand reached out to grab his ear in a painful grip. He squealed as he was yanked out of the car, stumbling and scraping his knees on the concrete ground. He was tugged sharply and he followed after the Canadian into the house, tripping over his feet as he struggled to keep up. He whined when he felt nails digging into the soft skin of his earlobe, eyes watering at the white hot fire that burst up from the pressure. It was agony. He clawed at Chris, begging for the man to calm down and just listen to him. He was shoved against a counter in the kitchen and his ear was released.

 

He let out a relieved sigh as the pain subsided, but then his throat was seized and he was pinned further onto the counter, his neck bending at an uncomfortable angle. He panicked when Benoit squeezed, his pleadings turning into strangled whimpers as the lack of oxygen stole his words. He didn't remember doing it, but he found himself thrashing in the unyielding hold, choking and his vision starting to fade. Then the iron grip was gone and he slid to the floor, gasping for air while he trembled and coughed. He looked up, his view of Chris obstructed and blurred by the tears swimming around in his eyes. Adrenaline pumped through his system and his body was shaking from the aftershock as the threat of passing out was no longer looming over him. He flinched away from his lover, hands up in an useless attempt at self-defense, when Benoit crouched in front of him.

 

What was worse is that the terrifyingly calm mask on Chris' face hadn't slipped during all this. Not once.

 

"Any other sound and I'll gag you, understand?"

 

The cold warning made Eddie shiver and he nodded hastily, hoping to avoid igniting the other wrestler's temper. He was already in enough trouble as it is.

 

Chris smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He stood back up and opened a drawer, rummaging through the various trinkets. "The way you behaved today has been quite childish, and so I shall treat you as such," he spoke softly, pulling out an utensil that caught his interest.

 

Eddie went rigid when he saw the wooden spatula in Benoit's hand, his mouth going dry. His eyes moved up to the emotionless blue gaze, imploring his friend to take pity on him. He was still sore from the drunken fight yesterday and he didn't wish for more bruises. It was getting increasingly difficult to hide the marks and with the weather warming up, there was a real possibility of heat stroke if he continued wearing sweaters and pants to cover himself from curious stares.

 

Chris' face only hardened and he pushed the smaller man into the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

 

Eddie remained quiet, his anxiety and panic exploding exponentially with each passing moment. This was going to hurt and his window to get out of harm's way was dwindling rapidly. He backed away in a corner, folding his arms together in a desperate effort to help blend himself into the shadows out of Benoit's sight. There was nothing he wanted to do more than flee. _'I really am a niño.'_  He scrambled up the wall, a muted mewl escaping when his wrist was grabbed and he was splayed across the Canadian's lap.

 

"What were you thinking? Going out for a drive? There was a reason I took your keys away," Chris muttered, his fingers going around to unbuckle the jeans, tugging them down the slim hips. "Are you stupid? Do you even remember why you're not allowed to drive anymore?" he spat. The latino remained silent, shaking under him. He let out a snarl and grabbed a fistful of the messy brown hair, earning a sharp cry. "Answer me, dammit."

 

Eddie hesitated, but another tug made him answer. "Because I can't be trusted," he rasped, the words sounding like they'd been ripped out of him. He shut his eyes and his hands curled into fists so tightly that his fingernails broke red crescents into his palms when his boxers were pulled to his knees. He suddenly grew hysterical, flailing around in the lap as distress overwhelmed him. All reasons abandoned his mind and he fought harder when Chris growled and held him down. He didn't care how pathetic he looked because he had to get out of this position before Benoit fucked him. He couldn't, couldn't, couldn't let this happen again. It was too soon. Chris, please, please  _don't -_

 

"Shut up. What the hell is wrong with you? Stop babbling."

 

And he did shut up, going limp and panting as shame prickled behind his eyes.

 

"This is so like you. Trying to get out of this. You sneak out behind my back and run off, doing God knows what. If you act like a spoiled brat, you get punished like one. Will you act your age for once?" Chris grumbled, picking up the spatula from where he'd dropped it during the struggle.

 

Eddie bowed his head, the fight leaving him as Benoit's voice cut its way to his heart. "Lo sientos," he mumbled, staring at the carpet. He really was an insolent child, refusing to atone for his shortsighted actions. It was only in Chris' right to treat him like this. He couldn't argue against that, not when the thoughts of _'this is your fault, you're letting him do this, you only have yourself to blame'_  threatened to smother him.

 

Chris snorted, relaxing his grip once he was satisfied the latino won't try to escape again. He flexed his arm and brought the utensil high up in the air before striking down the middle with the flat, wooden surface.

 

Eddie shrieked, jerking forward and clutching Benoit's left knee. _'Goddammit, that hurt.'_  He was soon writhing and twisting underneath the assaults that rained down on his exposed backside.

 

Chris put every ounce of his anger and frustration behind the strikes, welts blossoming along the red globes. He then began attacking the undercurve, the younger man's screams turning high-pitched and shrill. He paused long enough to grasp the belt dangling in the loops of the latino's pants and shoved it unceremoniously in the gasping mouth, tying it into a tight knot. He knew he was being sloppy and perhaps overstepping, but he couldn't let the neighbors hear his lover's cries. He resumed swinging the spatula down, scattering it all over the ass.

 

Eddie squirmed and buckled, biting down on the leather belt as tears made their way down his cheeks and silent sobs racked through his frame. It hurt, it hurt so bad. He just wanted it to stop. He tried to focus on the sounds of the utensil hitting his skin, hoping it would distract him from the pain, but he couldn't ignore the sheer agony flaring from where he was struck.

 

"Ten more and we'll be done. You're doing well."

 

The soothing voice did nothing to appease the burning fire and he choked when the strokes became more ferocious.

 

Chris let loose one last spank and stopped, wiping the sweat off his brow. He placed the spatula down on the bed and pulled the jeans halfheartedly back up. "There, it's over," he murmured, letting the latino crawl off him after he took the belt out. "I trust you learn your lesson?" The brown eyes snapped to his blue ones, burning with hurt before they drifted away in quiet acquiescence.

 

Eddie opened his mouth, as if to say something, but shut it before any noise came out. Instead, he looked down on his hands, folding and unfolding them from where he stood shakily away from the Canadian.

 

Chris sighed, fed up with his lover's hurt puppy act. "Whatever. Next time you pull that shit, I'll be far less understanding," he growled, glaring distastefully at the man before him.

 

Eddie stayed still, ass stinging and legs trembling as he waited for Benoit to hit him again, but there were no more acts of violence. He glanced up warily, watching his friend's retreating backside. He exhaled heavily once he was left alone in the room, shivering and leaning against the wall while he wiped drying tears off of his face. He'd felt ashamed and mortified when Chris had looked at him with such contemptuous gaze. _'Am I that revolting?'_  he thought despondently, wanting to take a hot shower to wash away his filth. He suddenly felt like a stain, taking up far too much space in the condo.

 

"Come here, now!"

 

Eddie jumped, a sickly sense of apprehension coming over him at the heated tone. His feet were like stones as he trudged reluctantly to where Chris was waiting for him with a stern face in the living room.

 

Benoit pointed to the crumbs on the couch and dust covering the coffee table. "I told you to clean before I fell asleep. Is this your definition?" he spat, stalking over the the latino until he was looming above the smaller wrestler.

 

Eddie paled, flinching when an open palm slapped him across a cheek. His head jerked to the right, staring unfocused at the withering flowers in a vase by the television. He vaguely heard Chris muttering curses, but he didn't make a move.

 

"You're a fucking brat. Can't do anything right, piece of shit."

 

He pushed away the smarting of the words and ignored how his heart clenched at the spiteful edge of his lover's voice. He didn't fight when Chris punched him, didn't cry when a knee slammed into his stomach. He tuned the yelling out, slumping ungraciously to the ground. He closed his eyes when he was kicked at, curling up a little until he sensed the Canadian walking away after a huff. Every muscle and joint ached and burned, but he didn't complain. It was all his fault really. Benoit did truly work hard to improve their relationship, and what did Eddie do for his part? Whine and argue about petty things, so meaningless now in hindsight. It was only fair for it to come to this - being reduced to a chew toy, a hopeless mess of a human being who was nothing more than a burden.

 

Eddie had to concede that it wasn't his place to protest, not when he had to help Chris, even if it meant being shouted at and beaten up. If his partner wished to release the stress onto him, he would put up with it.

 

It was only fair.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 


	17. The Ramifications of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I hate getting flashbacks from things I don't want to remember."

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

Eddie swayed on his feet, torn between seeing a doctor for his now fractured wrist and getting ready for his match that was coming on in half an hour. It'd been several days since Chris' …. words with him, and the sprain had gotten worse, the bones snapping when he was shoved against the fridge back at the condo. He'd dropped a pile of plates after he cleaned the dishes, the fine china shattering into shards on the kitchen floor.

 

It was a clumsy mistake and Benoit had hollered at him for it, pushing and hitting him until he fell on the wooden ground, the broken pieces cutting into his knees through the thin cloth of his pants.

 

They hardly talked anymore. Most of the time, Chris used his fists to convey his feelings. This, of course, led to bruises that wouldn't quite fade away. It took Eddie a little longer to recover after each exchange, but he didn't mind.

 

Really, he had nothing to complain about. All he wanted to do was be useful for his lover, to help the Canadian.

 

He preferred the beating over the sex anyways.

 

He was inclining towards going to the locker room, but then his eyes flickered down to his wrist. It'd grown swollen since the last fight and the pain was barely manageable now. If he go into his match the way it is now, who knew what sort of condition it would be in afterwards. He bit back a sigh and walked into the office, his entire being prickling with uneasiness. Chris won't be happy that he was seeing someone to check on him, but he didn't have a choice. If he kept putting it off, he risk going to the ER. This was marginally a better option.

 

Eddie spotted the man who'd treated him for his dislocated jaw.  _'Seemed so long ago.'_  He raised a hand in greeting. "Pike," he called out, his voice slightly gravelly from the lack of sleep.

 

John looked over when he heard his name, his eyes widening a fraction when he took in the sight of the Latino "Mr. Guerrero, what can I do for you today?" he asked, going over to the wrestler. "You don't look so good, son. You coming down with something?" he inquired further, concern coloring his words.

 

Eddie knew that he was a mess, with bags under his eyes from where he alternated between insomnia and total exhaustion. He tugged at the ends of his sleeves anxiously. He wore a large blue sweater to cover the worse of the bruises along his arms and back. It could prove to be problematic, but he could try to blame most of them on his matches. "Just a stomach virus," he lied, smiling brightly. He quickly ducked his head to avoid the worried gaze. "I'll be fine."

 

Pike wasn't convinced. "Son, we're in Florida and you're wearing heavy clothes in the middle of April. You could be getting the flu," he spoke sternly.

 

"I'm fine. Honestly. I'll go see someone if I don't feel better," Eddie argued, clenching his fists as he grew more agitated. He couldn't let the doc, or anyone, have a closer look at him. It would get Chris in trouble and he couldn't let that happen.

 

"Okay," John relented with a sigh. "Why are you here then?"

 

"I think I fractured my wrist," Eddie mumbled, holding his right arm out. "Fell down the stairs at home."

 

John carefully held the wrist, alarmed at the cracks he could feel along the bone. "I'll need to take some x-rays, any other injuries?"

 

Eddie shook his head, relieved that the doctor wasn't pressing the issue.

 

Pike's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? You fell down a flight of stairs and only managed to hurt your arm?"

 

Too late did Eddie realize his mistake. "Uh, well, I mean I got bruises and cuts and all that," he backtracked quickly, grasping at straws as he tried to find the words. "Nothing serious. I got lucky, I guess," he finished lamely, wringing his hands out nervously from where they were folded in his lap.

 

"Hmm, okay. Follow me," John murmured, leading the latino to the imaging lab where a young technician was sitting down in a chair, bored. "Clark, set up the X-Ray, please," he requested. He gestured at the operating table underneath the large machine hanging from the ceiling. "Eddie, lay down on your back and hold out your arm."

 

Eddie complied, rolling his sleeve up as he settled in, the scratchy paper rustling under him. Clark returned, draping a lead apron over his torso before grasping his wrist and positioning it over the frame where the machine would beam at it. The apron was awfully heavy and Eddie sucked in a breath, ignoring how the tender bruises along his shoulder and chest became inflamed with pain.

 

"I need you to stay still while we take the pictures, alright? We'll be back in a few minutes."

 

He nodded, closing his eyes to quell the rising anxiety. Being out of the condo and in public seemed to make him jumpy. He longed for the safety of the bed where he could hide himself in the warm covers away from the world.

 

 

In the other room, Dr. Pike and his colleague, Dr. Roberts, a radiologist were staring at the images taken. The ulnar bone coming away from the pinkie finger towards the elbow had splintered rather violently into the radius. Various cracks split the bone into smaller pieces and John was appalled at how the distal ends of both the radius and ulna were just.. _.shattered._

 

"How did he say it got like this?" Roberts asked, frowning at the ugly mess the wrist had became. It broke his heart - the human body was a beautiful machine wired by bones, vessels, nerves, and muscles. It was disconcerting when everything got mangled like this.

 

"Falling down the stairs."

 

He shook his head disbelievingly. "No way, man. I've seen a lot of injuries and this is not from falling. It wouldn't cause this kind of damage," he stated firmly. For one thing, the broken fragments of the ulna and radius would be tilted upward if it was a fall, a result of the body trying to catch itself with hands out. This...the bones seemed to be wrenched down, as if a powerful force had slammed onto the arm. Not to mention the horrifying way the carpal bones appeared almost pulverized. "It's worse than any intra-articular fracture I've ever seen. The bones are beyond displaced all over this end," he continued, tracing the point on the image he was referring to. He turned serious eyes on his co-worker. "Does he get in a lot of fights? I know he's a wrestler, but this wouldn't be from a match."

 

John blinked at the question, the words triggering a memory from the last time he'd treated Eddie. "Not that I know of," he replied, meeting the dark gaze.

 

"Some of the lines are older. It looks like it started off as something minor. A sprain maybe. For it to get worse like this..." Roberts trailed off, his voice quiet and somber.

 

Pike clenched his jaw, catching on what the radiologist was saying. "I understand," he muttered, "I'll talk to him."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie glanced over when he saw John walking into the room. He swallowed hard at the terse face. Somehow, he had a sinking suspicion that his excuse of crashing down the stairs wasn't good enough now if the expression was anything to go by.

 

"We got everything. Let's go back to the exam room," John spoke, taking the lead shield off of the latino.

 

"Okay," Eddie mumbled, standing up once he'd climbed off the table. The walk to the room was nerve-wracking and he wished he could just leave, not wanting to face the doctor's reproachful lecture.

 

John inhaled softly once he closed the door. He turned around and studied Guerrero who was looking at everything but him.

 

"H-How bad is it?" Eddie stammered, fidgeting with his sleeves again. He hated the silence, hated the way the doctor seemed so concerned for him.  _'Stop looking at me like that. I'm fine!'_

 

"Bad," John answered simply. "I need you to tell me the truth. This isn't the first time you came to me with an injury and some half-assed story," he cut in bluntly when the wrestler started to say something.

 

Eddie flinched and lowered his eyes, shame reeking off of him in waves. "Does it matter?" he asked, shifting from where he sat on the cot. His ass still hurt from the discipline and the tenderness didn't seem to be dying away any time soon. "It's …. embarrassing. I'm just clumsy. Really," he spoke haltingly, unsure of how much he should say. "I just...it's nothing of importance." It was awkward, fake even to his own ears, and he hated how his voice turned desperate.

 

John suppressed a groan. This was like talking to a brick wall. "You can't keep lying to me, Eddie. This is serious."

 

"It's nothing important, okay? Please. I'm fine, it's just something silly that happened."

 

"Your wrist is broken into four pieces. It's not 'silly' to me and it shouldn't be to you either," he snapped, losing his patience. He pinched the bridge of his nose and smoothed out his features with a long, weary sigh. He sat down on the stool, turning on the desktop.

 

Minutes ticked by as Pike entered the information in the computer. He paused when a note came up. "Looks like it's time for your physical. I'll go get you a gown to change into," he interjected, about to leave the room.

 

Eddie froze, staring at the doctor with terrified eyes. "What?!" he exclaimed, fingers fisting into the leather.

 

"Don't blame me. The company requires yearly physicals, you know that. They need the results by the end of this week," John explained curtly. "I'll be back."

 

Eddie paced around the room frantically once the doctor left, a panic attack starting to hit him. His heart was racing and his hands were beginning to tingle.  _'Not good, not good.'_  He whined uselessly in the empty office, pulling at the sleeves even more so now. _'What am I going to tell Chris?'_  he thought hysterically, blanching at the beating he would get once the Canadian found out that he saw a physician. He can already picture the yelling.

 

_"You are out of your bloody mind! Do you have to fuck everything up?!"_

 

Benoit never said that he couldn't see a doctor, but he knew he was in trouble. He was in trouble the moment he even considered the  _idea_  of getting looked at.

 

Eddie almost jumped out of his skin when the door opened, Pike handing him a faded white hospital gown.

 

"Call out when you're ready," John murmured, leaving again.

 

Eddie tittered nervously, reluctantly peeling his clothes off until he was standing in his boxers. He ignored the nausea that rose in his mouth at the sickly sight of the dark brown and purple blotches along his pale skin; he'd lost much of his tan as he started staying inside more and more. He put the gown on, shivering from the cold burst of the A/C brushing over his exposed back. He sat down on the exam table again, dread pooling in his stomach. Hopefully the physical would be quick and superficial. "I'm ready," he yelled out, pulling a sheet over his lap to cover the bruises on his legs.

 

John returned to the room, his eyebrows bunching up together when he spot the black briefs creeping out from where the gown had rode up slightly on the hips. "You're supposed to take your underwear off," he commented, grabbing a clipboard.

 

"I rather keep them on, it's freezing," Eddie complained lightly, praying the doc didn't need to look below the waist.

 

"Suit yourself. I'm gonna take your heart rate and blood pressure, okay?" Pike said, putting on a stethoscope and sliding it down the chest.

 

Eddie jolted at the steel cold touching his bare skin and his breathing hitched in panic. _'Getoffgetoffgetoffgetoff,'_  He despised the sensation and he had to fight the urge to rip the equipment off of him.

 

"Take slow, deep breathes, son," John advised, the rapid  _drumdrumdrum_  of the heart pattering at a rabbit pace was enough to make him wince.

 

Eddie gulped for air, his head spinning as a blanket of fear enveloped him. _'Why are you so scared? It's just an annual exam.'_  But he couldn't escape the terror. The hand touching him, the closeness of Dr. Pike, and the constant pressure of the stethoscope were smothering him. The room caved in on him.

 

"Are you with me, Eddie? ... Eddie?  _Eddie!"_

 

The worried voice snapped him back in focus. John suddenly loomed over him with startling clarity and he flinched away, expecting a slap. "I'm sorry," he blurt out, "It won't happen again." It seemed that he was always messing up.

 

John frowned. "No need to apologize. I just need you to slow your breathing down for me. Can you do that?" he said soothingly, hoping to reassure the latino.

 

Eddie nodded and studied his feet, humiliation burning through him. He settled in and deepened his exhales, slowly relaxing.

 

"There you go. That's much better," Pike praised softly, still frowning. It was bothersome at the severity of the attack, especially considering how the wrestler had this exam every year for almost two decades now.

 

Eddie felt something akin to relief swell up in him, but he kept quiet, focusing on the task.

 

A couple minutes later, John finally heard the heartbeats at a normal rate, even if they were a tad too high for his liking. He removed the stethoscope and picked up an arm cuff blood pressure monitor. "So far so good."

 

After the initial check up was done, John rolled his sleeves up and began washing his hands. "I'm going to need to check your abdomen and test your reflexes," he murmured over his shoulder, snapping on latex gloves.

 

Panic slammed back into Eddie at the sentence. He knew the sheet shielding him would be gone soon and then there wouldn't be anything to hide the bruises. He laid down, shudders rippling through him when he felt fingers tapping his stomach. Revulsion and paralyzing fear writhed around, and he struggled to keep still, not wanting to attract the doctor's attention. He felt a spark of guilt for taking up the man's time when there were people with  _actual_  problems.

 

Everything felt fine to John, nothing out of the ordinary as he moved down to the hips. At least, that was the case until the latino freaked out completely when he pulled the gown up to tug the boxers.

 

"What are you doing?!" Eddie squeaked, his voice high-pitched, and he grabbed the deft hands to stop them from going any further. The position he was in and the way Pike was leaning over him brought unpleasant memories of Chris touching him and preparing him for -

 

He instantly broke out in cold sweat, trembles shaking his cramped muscles. "Wh-What are you doing?" he repeated more faintly.

 

"I have to see if there are any hernias."

 

Eddie paled, shaking his head frenziedly. "Please, no," he begged in a whisper. "Everything is fine down there. I'll go see someone if I start feeling any pain, but I'm fine right now. Please."

 

Dr. John hesitated at the rambling. The company required a thorough exam, but the obvious distress on the latino's face stopped him. The trust between a doctor and patient was a very fragile bond, and if he continued on this path, he risk breaking that trust. "Okay," he agreed, "but seek medical help if there are any changes."

 

Eddie bowed his head, tears of gratitude streaking across his cheeks. "Gracias," he breathed, letting go of the hands.

 

Taken back, John cleared his throat and sat on his stool to give the other man some space. He grasped the reflex hammer, scooting closer. "Sit up, please. I'm gonna check your knees."

 

Eddie closed his eyes, a lump forming in his own throat. _'Here goes nothing.'_  He let the blanket fall away as he moved up, bracing himself for scorn.

 

Dr. Pike couldn't hold back a gasp when he saw the discolored contusions over the legs, the livid swelling making him almost sick. In all the years he'd been with WWE, he never saw anything this bad. "What the hell happened to you?"

 

Eddie squeezed his fists helplessly, not offering an explanation for how he got these wounds. He kept his eyes fixed on the door above John's head.

 

"Come on, Eddie. Talk to me, please. I'm your doctor."

 

He shook his head, blushing. "It's not important. Really. It's something embarrassing," he stuttered, feeling horribly cornered.

 

Pike fought back frustration and scooted forward more. Upon further in-depth examination, he could tell that it wasn't only the lower body that was injured. "Take off your gown," he instructed.

 

Eddie stared at the doctor in shock, brown eyes dilated and glazed with disbelief. "B-But.."

 

John cut off the protest with a wave. "Take it off, please," he repeated curtly. He didn't want to be forceful, but he had to make sure nothing was seriously wrong.

 

Eddie's head dipped in defeat and with prickling eyes, he shrugged the thin fabric off. He immediately crossed his arms, abashed in this loss of dignity. He wanted to cover himself, to protect his weakened body, but instead he made sure he sat still under the concerned gaze.

 

John didn't think things could get worse, but he was wrong. He was, frankly, disgusted with how it was as if Eddie had been used as someone's punching bag. The marks were scattered all over the back and front, welts bright and angry where they raised from the skin. "Do I need to check under your briefs?" he asked, surprised at how calm he sounded. Inside, he was breaking apart from anger and grief at the sorry state of his patient.  _'Who treats another human being like this?'_

 

"No," Eddie replied a little too quickly too harshly, another strong surge of panic rushing over him. "Everything down there is fine, sir."

 

Dr. Pike barely heard the latino, unable to take his eyes off the ruined body. The bruises reminded him of the battered women he'd treated in shelters back when he first started working. Fresh out of grad school, he came to learn the stories behind the scars when those victims fled from their husbands. Eddie looked remarkably similar to them, eyes shifting nervously and fingers twitching. Was it a possibility, he wondered, that this man was in the same situation? _'No, don't be ridiculous. You're overanalyzing this.'_

 

Eddie grew more uncomfortable when the silence stretched out. The doctor being behind him didn't help out any either. "Um, is there something wrong, sir?" he called out, hating how he cracked a little when he spoke.

 

"Do you happen to be in a relationship?" John questioned suddenly, his gut churning. Everything got sucked into the black hole at his center when the latino recoiled as if electrocuted.

 

"W-Why does that matter?"

 

"The way you're beaten up...it looks like you were abused. Some of the bruises are weeks old," Pike clarified slowly, carefully, as if speaking to a trapped animal. The absolute panic Eddie showed in that response convinced him that he was right, and he felt so utterly sick. This was just wrong on so many levels. It never ceased to disgust him how people treat each other so callously.

 

"No, no, no. My partner isn't like that. He doesn't hurt me. He's the most gentle guy you'd ever meet. He actually told me to go to a doctor," Eddie chattered, his words jarring out rashly. It was a lie, but he couldn't afford the truth. The physician wouldn't understand the ….arrangement he and Chris had.

 

_"I'm really glad you're okay with this. You're so wonderful, but we can't tell anyone about this, okay? They'll get the wrong idea and I'll get in trouble over something innocent. They won't appreciate what we have. You understand, don't you?"_

 

And Eddie _did_  understand. He wanted to be useful, to help his lover unwind. Even if he got hurt in the process, he was just happy that he was doing something worthwhile, being a true friend like Chris wanted him to be.

 

So, if he told John about any of their little 'rounds,' everything would get complicated and Chris would surely leave him if that happened. The Canadian wouldn't forgive him for a fuck up like that, so he had to keep quiet, to fabricate a reasonable story to satisfy the questions, just so Chris wouldn't be upset. "It's from a fight. I was with, um, Rey and a couple other people," he began, trying to keep the lies in order. _'Because that's all you are. A fucking liar.'_  He shook the voice out, putting on a falsely cocky smirk. "They went to a bar and I was the designated driver. Later on, Rey was getting in a fight with some guy and I went to break it up, but then the other group started ganging up on us. That's all," he finished, clasping his hands together.

 

Dr. Pike only shook his head, not buying into the anecdote. "I know it's hard to hear, but there is help for you. I can direct you too -"

 

"Come on, ese. Please. I'm fine, it was just a bar fight. Rey will back me up," Eddie laughed, albeit strained. No matter how mad Mysterio was at him, he knew the other latino wouldn't betray him.

 

John paused, a worrying frown on his face. He was still doubtful, but there was also a chance that he was wrong too. "Are you sure there's nothing else going on?"

 

Eddie nodded, sensing the break. "Si. I'm telling the truth. It was a fight, nothing more," he replied eagerly.

 

"You promise?"

 

_"You promise to stay quiet?"_

 

Eddie smiled cheekily. "Si."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Hours later, long after he came home from work, Eddie was lounging in the chair, the injured wrist wrapped in bandages, when he heard Chris coming down the stairs. He straightened up, unsure of what kind of mood the Canadian was in.

 

"Good evening, dear. How are you?" Chris greeted his best friend cheerfully, going over to place a chaste kiss on a cheek and tracing a finger over the shoulder fondly. He flashed a glance at the white cast around Eddie's wrist but said nothing of it.

 

Benoit's unusual display of emotions shocked Eddie into silence. "Ah, I'm good actually," he stammered, glancing uncertainly at Chris and wondering if he was dreaming.

 

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

 

Yep, he was definitely dreaming. The man before him sounded so much like his  _old_  Chris that his heart ached. "Sorry?" he laughed confusedly.

 

Chris let out an apologetic little smile, his usual remote face bright with happiness and joy. "You really came through lately. You help me blow off a lot of steam, and I truly do appreciate everything you've done. I know I get angry a lot, I get jealous, but I really do love you."

 

Eddie leaned in the warmth, purring under the hand running through his hair as he basked in the affectionate voice. He missed this side of his lover; it was a rare glimpse and it hurt knowing that it would be gone soon.

 

"But I do think there are other ways you can help me out with."

 

He opened his eyes to look up into the soft blue gaze. "What do you mean?' he asked carefully, not knowing where this was going. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and earn another beating.

 

Chris ducked his chin in, as if embarrassed. "I don't enjoy causing you so much pain. I know you can take it, but hurting you hurts me too," he murmured.

 

 _'Then why do you keep doing it?'_  Eddie pushed the whisper away and locked it deep in his mind. He'd learnt that arguing wasn't wise. "Don't feel bad, papi. I'm the one who offered. I can handle it, it doesn't hurt that much," he said softly, hoping to lighten Chris' burden.

 

Chris smiled at the latino with sparkling eyes, his stomach jumping when Eddie leaned back into his palm when he caressed the jaw. "That's why I love you so much," he purred.

 

Eddie grinned when he felt Benoit kissed his forehead, beyond happy that the other man seemed pleased with him. "I love you too, ese."

 

Chris stopped for a moment. "Then could you help me?"

 

"With what?"

 

"Well, our bedroom is getting a little stale and boring lately. Spicing it up would really help me, and it could help you too."

 

Eddie went stiff, his throat constricting. He jerked away from Benoit, from the warm touches. Everything turned cold. "C-Chris, I want to help you, I really truly do, but I can't do that. I can't. I'm sorry," he sputtered, a terrible weight of guilt crashing onto him. He knew he was being selfish, but he wasn't ready. He just wasn't. He reached out for Chris' hand. "I'll do anything for you, but I can't do that. I'm sorry -" he stopped talking when the Canadian slapped him. He saw Chris' face going remote once again, no longer cheerful and friendly, before his lover turned away and walked off. He sat in the chair, his shoulders slumping. _'What's wrong with me?'_  he thought despairingly.

 

Chris was cold and distant for the rest of that night, yelling and throwing stuff at him when he was too slow to react to orders.

 

The sleep was dreadful and he gave up trying to fall into as slumber when he was kicked out of the bed, the rough voice complaining about him hogging all the blankets.

 

It took three days for Eddie to give in.

 

They were eating breakfast and he could no longer take the stony silence. "I'll do it."

 

Chris looked up, his face instantly lighting when he heard the latino. "You sure? I don't want you to do anything that's not comfortable for you."

 

The coffee felt like lead in his stomach and he wanted to throw up. Instead, Eddie put on a smile, ignoring how his mind was screaming at him to stop and _think_  about what he was getting himself into.

 

"Si, I'm ready."

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 


	18. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Started from the bottom and somehow, I was able to get lower."

* * *

* * *

 

 

_August 22, 2004_

 

 

 

A few months had passed since Eddie saw Dr. Pike for his wrist. He hadn't gone back since then, but the physician always gave him a pitying look whenever they walk past each other in the hallway. It was awkward and Eddie made it a point to visit UrgentCare if he required medical assistance, avoiding Pike as often as he can. Of course, the upper management weren't happy with him seeking help outside of the company due to the complicated process of insurance and paperwork, but he was adamant. If he kept going to John, the doctor would end up asking a lot of questions he wouldn't be able to answer - not with a reasonable lie. It was easier to go to a clinic where the nurses and physicians were too worn out to bother asking how he got the injuries. Work had grown more difficult over the weeks as he withdrew himself further from his friends, not wanting to deal with their unnecessary concerns.

 

Not that his home life was exactly a paradise, since Chris decided to dealt out frustrations in...other ways besides beating him up.

 

Eddie shuddered from where he sat on the couch, bringing his knees up to his chest. He knew he agreed to let the Canadian try out certain moves, but they hurt. Each time was worse, leaving more bruises peppered between his legs and over his now-mottled hips. They throbbed and burned when he brushed over them in the shower. He didn't voice his discomfort to Chris, not after the first time.

 

Benoit had responded by shoving his face into the wall and thrusting harder until he was screaming with blood sliding down his inner thighs.

 

It was better to keep quiet and let it happen - that way, it was usually over quickly and he could have time to breathe after it was over. The man never stayed after the session, instead leaving him alone on the ground.

 

It stung, but Eddie understood.

 

He wouldn't want to be with himself either.

 

His musing got interrupted when hands suddenly dropped on his shoulders. He jumped and looked up to see Chris smiling down at him.

 

"Hello, love."

 

"H-Hi, Chris," Eddie returned the greeting. He didn't like the expression. His lover hardly ever smiled at him, and the coldness of this one bothered him greatly. His distress increased when Benoit walked around and sat in the stool, knees bracing against the front of the couch cushion he was sitting in, trapping him. He swallowed uneasily, eyes flickering to the coffee table. If the other wrestler was acting like this, then that meant he must have fucked something up.

 

"You having a good day, hmm?" Chris grunted, leaning forward slightly to trace the Latino's leg.

 

Eddie couldn't help twitching at the contact, finally meeting the blue eyes that lacked warmth. He had to be careful in his answer - if he said he wasn't having a good day, he'd be yelled at and called an ungrateful liar trying to weasel out. But if he said his day was great, then he was a lazy bastard who didn't have any care in the world. He won't win either way. "I guess it depends. I mean my day is good if yours is," he coughed, unsure of what precisely he should say.

 

Chris snorted humorlessly, cocking his head as if to mock his lover. "How typical. You're only saying that to save your own skin."

 

Eddie lowered his gaze, throat burning in shame because Benoit was right. He only gave answers that won't put him in hot waters, which was useless. The Canadian always found a way to blame him no matter what. "Sorry," he mumbled, fidgeting.

 

"Well, I'm having a terrible day actually. Thanks to the fact a certain someone hadn't done the dishes or vacuum or even cleaned out the garage."

 

Eddie blanched, a horrible sense not unlike terror falling upon him. _'How could I be such an idiota? It's Sunday!'_  His hands clenched the armrest while he fought off a panic attack. _'Stupid! Stupid!'_  He'd forgotten what day it was, deciding to relax and allow his more recent wounds to heal, not realizing he should have been cleaning. "I-I'm really sorry. I didn't know today was Sunday. I'll get right on it," he stammered, about to bolt out of the couch.

 

Chris frowned and shoved the smaller man back on the cushion. "Where do you think you're going? Sit the fuck down. I already did your chores since you chose to be a sloth," he snarled.

 

Eddie crossed his arms protectively in front of his chest and squeezed his thighs together, preparing himself for another beating. He no longer bothered trying to talk himself out of one - it didn't matter what he said. If Benoit wanted to hurt him, then that's that. There was no way to avoid the simple truth.

 

Chris let out a long, suffering sigh, closing his eyes. He was fed up with the Latino's awkwardness and while he would love to do more than to show just  _how_  irritated he really felt, he had other things to discuss. "Don't slack off again. Anyways, I was talking to an old friend and he said I should throw a party since it's been a while we saw our old gang. I told him I would think about it. It's a great idea so I figured we could throw it on Friday night, and some people can stay in the guest room too," he murmured.

 

Eddie remained frozen, staring at the Canadian in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. One, he barely escaped the fists and two, a party?! He knew his lover, and the man utterly despised parties. "Uh, I t-thought you hate those. You're always trying to get out of them," he protested, momentarily forgetting one of Chris' big rules -  _'Don't talk back.'_

 

He was instantly reminded of it when Benoit's patience snapped and he was backhanded, his cheek turning a bright shade of red as it began to sting from the force of the slap. He flinched away from his best friend, apologies tumbling out of his mouth, cowering before the furious wrestler.

 

"When are you going to learn to shut up?" Chris spat, bristling when terrified brown eyes darted away from his. He exhaled sharply and sat down again, rubbing his forehead. "I know it's a bit weird, but it would be nice to see everyone again. I trust you won't misbehave and bother the guests," he growled quietly.

 

Eddie nodded hastily, lips clamped in one thin line. He jerked backwards when his burning cheek was cupped and lips pressed against his ear.

 

"Don't push me, alright? You're already on thin ice here."

 

"I understand," he spoke quietly, shivering under the intimate closeness of their two bodies. _'Please don't let him be in THAT mood.'_

 

"Good," Chris purred, giving a chaste kiss on the Latino's jawline, and moved away. "I'm going to take a shower," he commented, going up the stairs. He glanced over his shoulders, sighing when he saw the shorter man was still sitting. "Are you coming?"

 

Eddie deflated, numbly standing up to follow Benoit. He knew better than to argue; if he even tried to fight the Canadian, there would be pain and more blood. He didn't want to return to the clinic, not when he was there only a few days ago. As he trudged up the steps with a heavy heart, he wondered what it was like to look forward to sex, or to be unafraid of your lover.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Friday_

 

 

Chris finally finished the last of the decorations in the condo. He bought paper plates, napkins, cups, plastic spoons and forks, and beer along with soda. It took all day, but he was almost ready for the party. He glanced at his partner who was boiling the water on the stove. "You done preparing the food yet?" he asked.

 

Eddie shook his head. "No, sorry. I gotta do a couple more sets and then we'll be good," he murmured, watching the bubbles lazily. He snapped out of his stupor when Benoit hugged him from behind, arms tightly wrapped around his waist. He let out a startled squeak, hands gripping the handle of the oven. "C-Chris, I'm, um, I'm a little busy here, papi," he gasped out, embarrassed at how shaky his voice sounded.

 

Chris groaned, but let go of the smaller body. "You're no fun," he complained, pouting and resting his hips against the counter. He didn't see the brief fear that flashed across his lover's face.

 

"S-Sorry."

 

He scoffed at the soft answer. "Oh, just be quiet. Geez, you're a handful sometimes," he snapped. His good mood vanished and he could feel a headache coming on. _'Why do I even bother talking to him?'_  He thought grouchily. He studied the way the Latino moved as Eddie opened a bag of Mac n Cheese, the biceps flexing. _'He can be such a tease...'_  He woke up, remembering what he'd been meaning to talk to his friend about before the party started. "Ah, it nearly slipped my mind. I need you to promise me something. The last time we all got together was back on our anniversary. We're not going to have a repeat of that, are we?" he quipped.

 

Eddie frowned and stared at Benoit, not grasping what the Canadian was saying. "I don't understand?" he muttered, focusing on the pot again.

 

"I mean you're not going to fuck someone behind my back again, right?" Chris clarified, quirking one eyebrow up, as if it was obvious what he meant.

 

"For fuck's sake, Chris!" Eddie spat testily, slamming the box down. "How many times do I have to say it? I never cheated on you!" he shouted, whirling around to face Benoit, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind screeching at him to shut up before he dug his own grave. "That woman drugged me and I did try fighting. I tried, Chris! I tried everything, but I was fucking drugged. I never wanted it, when will you believe me?!" The past week had been tensed and he only managed to sleep a measly four hours in the past four days. He was tired of trying to justify himself to deaf ears.

 

Chris stood still, mouth agape and eyes wide in shock at the yelling. A feeling akin to rage began building up and he closed his jaw, stalking over to the Latino who abruptly went quiet as soon as he made a move.

 

Eddie's anger evaporated and he took a step backwards, hitting the stove. _'Oh fuck, oh fuck. Dios help me.'_ He screwed up, he screwed up bad. "D-Don't get mad. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me..." his pleas faded away when Benoit's expression darkened. He whimpered when his wrist was grabbed, and he turned clammy and pale when his hand was brought over the pot of boiling water. Steam coated his palm and he thrashed against the bigger body pinning his against the steel oven. "Stop! Please, Chris! I'm really sorry, I won't do it again!" he cried out, panicking when his hand was lowered, hovering mere inches above the popping bubbles. He jerked against the solid grip, his begging turning high-pitched. "No! No! Lo siento, don't! Stop!" He writhed uselessly, the back of his head grounded against the curve of Benoit's shoulder as he squirmed. "P-Please."

 

Chris quit and shoved Eddie away, the shorter wrestler crashing on the floor. He grasped the pot and walked to where his lover had scrambled into a corner.

 

Eddie shook his head frantically when the pot was held over him, as if the Canadian would pour the scalding hot water on him. He whined and pressed himself further against the wall, tears pooling in his eyes as the situation rapidly spiraled south. "Please, Chris, I'm sorry. I really really am. I'll be good. I'll be quiet. I won't yell again. Please," he beseech, praying for his partner to relent and take mercy on him.

 

For a few, terrifying seconds, both men stood still. Then Chris brought the pan down, setting it on the counter.

 

Eddie let out a relieved sigh, trembling as the shock wore off. He recoiled when Benoit crouched in front of him.

 

"The next time you raise your voice at me," Chris warned, reaching over to fist his fingers in the dark hair. "I won't be so lenient."

 

Eddie swallowed, a pained cry slipping out when the hand yanked sharply. "Yes, sir," he choked, eyes watering.

 

Chris narrowed his own eyes, not satisfied with the answer. He nudged the legs apart with a knee and moved in closer until there was very little space between them. He once again picked up the pot, his free hand twisting the Latino's head to expose the neck.

 

Eddie freaked out, buckling from where he was half-sitting, half-laying underneath the heavy weight, but he couldn't move. He belatedly realized his arms were stuck under Benoit's knees, leaving him defenseless. "No! Please don't do this, I'll do anything you want! I'll blow you! Don't do this, it's going to hurt, please!" he wailed, straining away from the man.

 

Chris paused, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Blow me, eh? I guess you'll whore yourself out of anything," he chuckled dryly.

 

Tears began sliding down Eddie's cheeks when he saw the pot being tilted slightly.  _'Goddammit, why did I chose to wear a tank top today out of all days?'_  he thought madly, bracing himself.

 

But nothing could prepare him for blistering icy-hot agony that burst up as the first drops of the boiling water hit his bared neck where it joined his shoulder. An earsplitting shriek tore out of his throat and for one horrifying moment, he swore his skin was melting off. He tried to plead again, but his brain wasn't cooperating enough for his tongue to work, short-circuiting on the pain that overwhelmed his senses.

 

Chris stopped pouring, covering the mouth with a sticky palm. "Shut up, are you trying to have the neighbors call the police on us again?" he snarled.

 

Eddie could only stare at Benoit dazedly, panting raggedly and quiet sobs spilling out of his chest as his neck throbbed. He felt dizzy and sick, sweat trickling down from his hairline. The hand left his mouth and he could finally breathe properly. Panic returned when fingers fumbled around the zipper and pulled his jeans down, revealing the thin grey boxers that provided little protection from the impeding danger. He started fighting as the pot was raised again, poised above his groin threateningly. "Stop! I won't do it again, please! Don't do this, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he screeched, desperately closing his thighs until a bent leg blocked him. " _Chris, please!_ " he howled, nails scraping against the tiles.

 

Chris pulled back, placing the pot next to the flailing Latino. He towered over his lover, suddenly realizing how small and frail Eddie looked in his looming shadow. "I suppose I don't need to tell you what will happen if you ever talk to me in such a way again," he spoke quietly. "Do we understand each other?"

 

Eddie started to nod, but then winced when the nerves in his neck screamed in protest. "P-Perfectly," he replied. To his immense relief, his answer seemed to please the Canadian and Benoit got off of him. He sniffled and sat up, his back resting against the wall.

 

Chris turned the stove off and looked over, eyes straying over to the pants still undone and the fresh burn on the side of his friend's neck. He watched Eddie wipe away the tears for a few minutes before he cleared his throat loudly.

 

Eddie stiffened when he heard Benoit, hands frozen in mid-air. He shivered and forced himself to raise his gaze. The other man's face was neutral, giving nothing away, and he felt cold to the bones.

 

"I'll prepare the food because your cooking sucks. I want you to clean up and get ready. Everyone is coming in a couple hours. Try not to dress too loosely. I already have enough problems without having to keep your ass out of trouble," Chris grumbled.

 

Eddie bowed his head, eyes prickling again. "Am I worth that little to you?" he mumbled under his breath.

 

"Excuse me?" Chris snapped, taking a step forward.

 

Eddie shifted on the floor, seeing the pot near him. He went rigid, mouth going dry at the sight of the water with the steam still rising. As if on cue, the burn pulsated on his neck.

 

"Mind telling me what you just said?"

 

His gaze shot up to the Canadian, wild and unfocused and full of unadulterated terror. "I-I-I" he stammered, hastily pulling his jeans up. When Benoit came closer, he ran out of the kitchen.

 

Chris watched the Latino leave, hearing the panicked wrestler tripping up the stairs and a door slamming shut. "Take care of that burn too!" he yelled, moving the pot to pour the remaining water in the sink.

 

In the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, Eddie huddled in the tub, rocking back and forth. An occasional whimper slipped out and he hiccuped, watching his teardrops splattered on the smooth ceramic under his bare feet. He didn't understand Benoit anymore. He still loved the man, but that love was overpowered by his intense fear and mistrust.

 

For the first time in the course of this relationship, he didn't know what to do.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 


	19. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'd hate you if I could."

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Eddie swayed on his feet, torn between seeing a doctor for his now fractured wrist and getting ready for his match that was coming on in half an hour. It’d been several days since Chris’ …. words with him, and the sprain had gotten worse, the bones snapping when he was shoved against the fridge back at the condo. He’d dropped a pile of plates after he cleaned the dishes, the fine china shattering into shards on the kitchen floor.

It was a clumsy mistake and Benoit had hollered at him for it, pushing and hitting him until he fell on the wooden ground, the broken pieces cutting into his knees through the thin cloth of his pants.

They hardly talked anymore. Most of the time, Chris used his fists to convey his feelings. This, of course, led to bruises that wouldn’t quite fade away. It took Eddie a little longer to recover after each exchange, but he didn’t mind.

Really, he had nothing to complain about. All he wanted to do was be useful for his lover, to help the Canadian.

He preferred the beating over the sex anyways.

He was inclining towards going to the locker room, but then his eyes flickered down to his wrist. It’d grown swollen since the last fight and the pain was barely manageable now. If he go into his match the way it is now, who knew what sort of condition it would be in afterwards. He bit back a sigh and walked into the office, his entire being prickling with uneasiness. Chris won’t be happy that he was seeing someone to check on him, but he didn’t have a choice. If he kept putting it off, he risk going to the ER. This was marginally a better option.

Eddie spotted the man who’d treated him for his dislocated jaw. ‘ _Seemed so long ago.’_ He raised a hand in greeting. “Pike,” he called out, his voice slightly gravelly from the lack of sleep.

John looked over when he heard his name, his eyes widening a fraction when he took in the sight of the Latino “Mr. Guerrero, what can I do for you today?” he asked, going over to the wrestler. “You don’t look so good, son. You coming down with something?” he inquired further, concern coloring his words.

Eddie knew that he was a mess, with bags under his eyes from where he alternated between insomnia and total exhaustion. He tugged at the ends of his sleeves anxiously. He wore a large blue sweater to cover the worse of the bruises along his arms and back. It could prove to be problematic, but he could try to blame most of them on his matches. “Just a stomach virus,” he lied, smiling brightly. He quickly ducked his head to avoid the worried gaze. “I’ll be fine.”

Pike wasn’t convinced. “Son, we’re in Florida and you’re wearing heavy clothes in the middle of April. You could be getting the flu,” he spoke sternly.

“I’m fine. Honestly. I’ll go see someone if I don’t feel better,” Eddie argued, clenching his fists as he grew more agitated. He couldn’t let the doc, or anyone, have a closer look at him. It would get Chris in trouble and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Okay,” John relented with a sigh. “Why are you here then?”

“I think I fractured my wrist,” Eddie mumbled, holding his right arm out. “Fell down the stairs at home.”

John carefully held the wrist, alarmed at the cracks he could feel along the bone. “I’ll need to take some x-rays, any other injuries?”

Eddie shook his head, relieved that the doctor wasn't pressing the issue.

Pike’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? You fell down a flight of stairs and only managed to hurt your arm?”

Too late did Eddie realize his mistake. “Uh, well, I mean I got bruises and cuts and all that,” he backtracked quickly, grasping at straws as he tried to find the words. “Nothing serious. I got lucky, I guess,” he finished lamely, wringing his hands out nervously from where they were folded in his lap.

“Hmm, okay. Follow me,” John murmured, leading the latino to the imaging lab where a young technician was sitting down in a chair, bored. “Clark, set up the X-Ray, please,” he requested. He gestured at the operating table underneath the large machine hanging from the ceiling. “Eddie, lay down on your back and hold out your arm.”

Eddie complied, rolling his sleeve up as he settled in, the scratchy paper rustling under him. Clark returned, draping a lead apron over his torso before grasping his wrist and positioning it over the frame where the machine would beam at it. The apron was awfully heavy and Eddie sucked in a breath, ignoring how the tender bruises along his shoulder and chest became inflamed with pain.

“I need you to stay still while we take the pictures, alright? We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nodded, closing his eyes to quell the rising anxiety. Being out of the condo and in public seemed to make him jumpy. He longed for the safety of the bed where he could hide himself in the warm covers away from the world.

 

* * *

 

**  
  
**

 

Dr. Pike and his colleague, Dr. Roberts, a radiologist were staring at the images taken. The ulnar bone coming away from the pinkie finger towards the elbow had splintered rather violently into the radius. Various cracks split the bone into smaller pieces and John was appalled at how the distal ends of both the radius and ulna were just... _shattered._

“How did he say it got like this?” Roberts asked, frowning at the ugly mess the wrist had became. It broke his heart -- the human body was a beautiful machine wired by bones, vessels, nerves, and muscles. It was disconterning when everything got mangled like this.

“Falling down the stairs.”

He shook his head disbelievingly. “No way, man. I’ve seen a lot of injuries and this is not from falling. It wouldn’t cause this kind of damage,” he stated firmly. For one thing, the broken fragments of the ulna and radius would be tilted upward if it was a fall, a result of the body trying to catch itself with hands out. This...the bones seemed to be wrenched down, as if a powerful force had slammed onto the arm. Not to mention the horrifying way the carpal bones appeared almost pulverized. “It’s worse than any intra-articular fracture I've ever seen. The bones are beyond displaced all over this end,” he continued, tracing the point on the image he was referring to. He turned serious eyes on his co-worker. “Does he get in a lot of fights?  I know he’s a wrestler, but this wouldn’t be from a match.”

John blinked at the question, the words triggering a memory from the last time he’d treated Eddie. “Not that I know of,” he replied, meeting the dark gaze.

“Some of the lines are older. It looks like it started off as something minor. A sprain maybe. For it to get worse like this..." Roberts trailed off, his voice quiet and somber.

Pike clenched his jaw, catching on what the radiologist was saying. “I understand,” he muttered, “I’ll talk to him.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Eddie glanced over when he saw John walking into the room. He swallowed hard at the terse face. Somehow, he had a sinking suspicion that his excuse of crashing down the stairs wasn’t good enough now if the expression was anything to go by.

“We got everything. Let’s go back to the exam room,” John spoke, taking the lead shield off of the latino.

“Okay,” Eddie mumbled, standing up once he’d climbed off the table. The walk to the room was nerve-wracking and he wished he could just leave, not wanting to face the doctor’s reproachful lecture.

John inhaled softly once he closed the door. He turned around and studied Guerrero who was looking at everything but him.

“H-How bad is it?” Eddie stammered, fidgeting with his sleeves again. He hated the silence, hated the way the doctor seemed so concerned for him. _‘Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine!’_

“Bad,” John answered simply. “I need you to tell me the truth. This isn’t the first time you came to me with an injury and some half-assed story,” he cut in bluntly when the wrestler started to say something.

Eddie flinched and lowered his eyes, shame reeking off of him in waves. “Does it matter?” he asked, shifting from where he sat on the cot. His ass still hurt from the discipline and the tenderness didn’t seem to be dying away any time soon. “It’s …. embarrassing. I’m just clumsy. Really,” he spoke haltingly, unsure of how much he should say. “I just...it’s nothing of importance.” It was awkward, fake even to his own ears, and he hated how his voice turned desperate.

John suppressed a groan. This was like talking to a brick wall. “You can’t keep lying to me, Eddie. This is serious.”

“It’s nothing important, okay? Please. I’m fine, it’s just something silly that happened.”

“Your wrist is broken into four pieces. It’s not ‘silly’ to me and it shouldn’t be to you either,” he snapped, losing his patience. He pinched the bridge of his nose and smoothed out his features with a long, weary sigh. He sat down on the stool, turning on the desktop.

Minutes ticked by as Pike entered the information in the computer. He paused when a note came up. “Looks like it’s time for your physical. I’ll go get you a gown to change into,” he interjected, about to leave the room.

Eddie froze, staring at the doctor with terrified eyes. “What?!” he exclaimed, fingers fisting into the leather.

“Don’t blame me. The company requires yearly physicals, you know that. They need the results by the end of this week,” John explained curtly. “I’ll be back.”

Eddie paced around the room frantically once the doctor left, a panic attack starting to hit him. His heart was racing and his hands were beginning to tingle. _‘Not good, not good.’_ He whined uselessly in the empty office, pulling at the sleeves even more so now. _‘What am I going to tell Chris?’_ he thought hysterically, blanching at the beating he would get once the Canadian found out that he saw a physician. He can already picture the yelling.

__

_"You are out of your bloody mind! Do you have to fuck everything up?!”_

Benoit never said that he couldn’t see a doctor, but he knew he was in trouble. He was in trouble the moment he even considered the idea of getting looked at.

Eddie almost jumped out of his skin when the door opened, Pike handing him a faded white hospital gown.

“Call out when you’re ready,” John murmured, leaving again.

Eddie tittered nervously, reluctantly peeling his clothes off until he was standing in his boxers. He ignored the nausea that rose in his mouth at the sickly sight of the dark brown and purple blotches along his pale skin; he’d lost much of his tan as he started staying inside more and more. He put the gown on, shivering from the cold burst of the A/C brushing over his exposed back. He sat down on the exam table again, dread pooling in his stomach. Hopefully the physical would be quick and superficial. “I’m ready,” he yelled out, pulling a sheet over his lap to cover the bruises on his legs.

John returned to the room, his eyebrows bunching up together when he spot the black briefs creeping out from where the gown had rode up slightly on the hips. “You’re supposed to take your underwear off,” he commented, grabbing a clipboard.

“I rather keep them on, it’s freezing,” Eddie complained lightly, praying the doc didn’t need to look below the waist.

“I’m gonna take your heart rate and blood pressure, okay?” Pike said, putting on a stethoscope and sliding it down the chest.

Eddie jolted at the steel cold touching his bare skin and his breathing hitched in panic. _‘Getoffgetoffgetoffgetoff,’_ He despised the sensation and he had to fight the urge to rip the equipment off of him.

“Take slow, deep breathes, son,” John advised, the rapid _drumdrumdrum_ of the heart pattering at a rabbit pace was enough to make him wince.

Eddie gulped for air, his head spinning as a blanket of fear enveloped him. _‘Why are you so scared? It’s just an annual exam.’_ But he couldn’t escape the terror. The hand touching him, the closeness of Dr. Pike, and the constant pressure of the stethoscope were smothering him. The room caved in on him.

“Are you with me, Eddie? ... Eddie? Eddie!”

The worried voice snapped him back in focus. John suddenly loomed over him with startling clarity and he flinched away, expecting a slap. “I’m sorry,” he blurt out, “It won’t happen again.” It seemed that he was always messing up.

John frowned. “No need to apologize. I just need you to slow your breathing down for me. Can you do that?” he said soothingly, hoping to reassure the latino.

Eddie nodded and studied his feet, humiliation burning through him. He settled in and deepened his exhales, slowly relaxing.

“There you go. That’s much better,” Pike praised softly, still frowning. It was bothersome at the severity of the attack, especially considering how the wrestler had this exam every year for almost two decades now.

Eddie felt something akin to relief swell up in him, but he kept quiet, focusing on the task.

A couple minutes later, John finally heard the heartbeats at a normal rate, even if they were a tad too high for his liking. He removed the stethoscope and picked up an arm cuff blood pressure monitor. “So far so good.”

After the initial check up was done, John rolled his sleeves up and began washing his hands. “I’m going to need to check your abdomen and test your reflexes,” he murmured over his shoulder, snapping on latex gloves.

Panic slammed back into Eddie at the sentence. He knew the sheet shielding him would be gone soon and then there wouldn’t be anything to hide the bruises. He laid down, shudders rippling through him when he felt fingers tapping his stomach. Revulsion and paralyzing fear writhed around, and he struggled to keep still, not wanting to attract the doctor’s attention. He felt a spark of guilt for taking up the man’s time when there were people with _actual_ problems.

Everything felt fine to John, nothing out of the ordinary as he moved down to the hips. At least, that was the case until the latino freaked out completely when he pulled the gown up to tug the boxers.

“What are you doing?!” Eddie squeaked, his voice high-pitched, and he grabbed the deft hands to stop them from going any further. The position he was in and the way Pike was leaning over him brought unpleasant memories of Chris touching him and preparing him for --

He instantly broke out in cold sweat, trembles shaking his cramped muscles. “Wh-What are you doing?” he repeated more faintly.

“I have to see if there are any hernias.”

Eddie paled, shaking his head frenziedly. “Please, no,” he begged in a whisper. “Everything is fine down there. I’ll go see someone if I start feeling any pain, but I’m fine right now. Please.”

Dr. John hesitated at the rambling. The company required a thorough exam, but the obvious distress on the latino’s face stopped him. The trust between a doctor and patient was a very fragile bond, and if he continued on this path, he risk breaking that trust. “Okay,” he agreed, “but seek medical help if there are any changes.”

Eddie bowed his head, tears of gratitude streaking across his cheeks. “Gracias,” he breathed, letting go of the hands.

Taken back, John cleared his throat and sat on his stool to give the other man some space. He grasped the reflex hammer, scooting closer. “Sit up, please. I’m gonna check your knees.”

Eddie closed his eyes, a lump forming in his own throat. _‘Here goes nothing.’_ He let the blanket fall away as he moved up, bracing himself for scorn.

Dr. Pike couldn’t hold back a gasp when he saw the discolored contusions over the legs, the livid swelling making him almost sick. In all the years he’d been with WWE, he never saw anything this bad. “What the hell happened to you?”

Eddie squeezed his fists helplessly, not offering an explanation for how he got these wounds. He kept his eyes fixed on the door above John’s head.

“Come on, Eddie. Talk to me, please. I’m your doctor.”

He shook his head, blushing. “It’s not important. Really. It’s something embarrassing,” he stuttered, feeling horribly cornered.

Pike fought back frustration and scooted forward more. Upon further in-depth examination, he could tell that it wasn’t only the lower body that was injured. “Take off your gown,” he instructed.

Eddie stared at the doctor in shock, brown eyes dilated and glazed with disbelief. “B-But..”

John cut off the protest with a wave. “Take it off, please,” he repeated curtly. He didn’t want to be forceful, but he had to make sure nothing was seriously wrong.

Eddie’s head dipped in defeat and with prickling eyes, he shrugged the thin fabric off. He immediately crossed his arms, abashed in this loss of dignity. He wanted to cover himself, to protect his weakened body, but instead he made sure he sat still under the concerned gaze.

John didn’t think things could get worse, but he was wrong. He was, frankly, disgusted with how it was as if Eddie had been used as someone’s punching bag. The marks were scattered all over the back and front, welts bright and angry where they raised from the skin. “Do I need to check under your briefs?” he asked, surprised at how calm he sounded. Inside, he was breaking apart from anger and grief at the sorry state of his patient. _‘Who treats another human being like this?’_

“No,” Eddie replied a little too quickly too harshly, another strong surge of panic rushing over him. “Everything down there is fine, sir.”

Dr. Pike barely heard the latino, unable to take his eyes off the ruined body. The bruises reminded him of the battered women he’d treated in shelters back when he first started working. Fresh out of grad school, he came to learn the stories behind the scars when those victims fled from their husbands. Eddie looked remarkably similar to them, eyes shifting nervously and fingers twitching. Was it a possibility, he wondered, that this man was in the same situation? _‘No, don’t be ridiculous. You’re overanalyzing this.’_

Eddie grew more uncomfortable when the silence stretched out. The doctor being behind him didn’t help out any either. “Um, is there something wrong, sir?” he called out, hating how he cracked a little when he spoke.

“Do you happen to be in a relationship?” John questioned suddenly, his gut churning. Everything got sucked into the black hole at his center when the latino recoiled as if electrocuted.

“W-Why does that matter?”

“The way you’re beaten up...it looks like you were abused. Some of the bruises are weeks old,” Pike clarified slowly, carefully, as if speaking to a trapped animal. The absolute _panic_  Eddie showed in that response convinced him that he was right, and he felt so utterly sick. This was just wrong on so many levels. It never ceased to disgust him how people treat each other so callously.

“No, no, no. My partner isn’t like that. He doesn’t hurt me. He’s the most gentle guy you’d ever meet. He actually told me to go to a doctor,” Eddie chattered, his words jarring out rashly. It was a lie, but he couldn’t afford the truth. The physician wouldn’t understand the ….arrangement he and Chris had.

_“I’m really glad you’re okay with this. You’re so wonderful, but we can’t tell anyone about this, okay? They’ll get the wrong idea and I’ll get in trouble over something innocent. They won’t appreciate what we have. You understand, don’t you?”_

And Eddie _did_ understand. He wanted to be useful, to help his lover unwind. Even if he got hurt in the process, he was just happy that he was doing something worthwhile, being a _true_ friend like Chris wanted him to be.

**  
  
**

So, if he told John about any of their little ‘rounds,’ everything would get complicated and Chris would surely leave him if that happened. The Canadian wouldn’t forgive him for a fuck up like that, so he had to keep quiet, to fabricate a reasonable story to satisfy the questions, just so Chris wouldn’t be upset. “It’s from a fight. I was with, um, Rey and a couple other people,” he began, trying to keep the lies in order. _‘Because that’s all you are. A fucking liar.’_ He shook the voice out, putting on a falsely cocky smirk. “They went to a bar and I was the designated driver. Later on, Rey was getting in a fight with some guy and I went to break it up, but then the other group started ganging up on us. That’s all,” he finished, clasping his hands together.

Dr. Pike only shook his head, not buying into the anecdote. “I know it’s hard to hear, but there is help for you. I can direct you too --”

“Come on, ese. Please. I’m fine, it was just a bar fight. Rey will back me up,” Eddie laughed, albeit strained. No matter how mad Mysterio was at him, he knew the other latino wouldn’t betray him.

John paused, a worrying frown on his face. He was still doubtful, but there was also a chance that he was wrong too. “Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?”

Eddie nodded, sensing the break. “Si. I’m telling the truth. It was a fight, nothing more,” he replied eagerly.

“You promise?”

__

_“You promise to stay quiet?”_

Eddie smiled cheekily. “Si.”

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, long after he came home from work, Eddie was lounging in the chair when he heard Chris coming down the stairs. He straightened up, unsure of what kind of mood the Canadian was in.

“Good evening, dear. How are you?” Chris greeted his best friend cheerfully, going over to place a chaste kiss on a cheek and tracing a finger over the shoulder fondly.

Benoit’s unusual display of emotions shocked Eddie into silence. “Ah, I’m good actually,” he stammered, glancing uncertainly at Chris and wondering if he was dreaming.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

Yep, he was definitely dreaming. The man before him sounded so much like his _old_ Chris that his heart ached. “Sorry?” he laughed confusedly.

Chris let out an apologetic little smile, his usual remote face bright with happiness and joy. “You really came through lately. You help me blow off a lot of steam, and I truly do appreciate everything you've done. I know I get angry a lot, I get jealous, but I really do love you.”

Eddie leaned in the warmth, purring under the hand running through his hair as he basked in the affectionate voice. He missed this side of his lover; it was a rare glimpse and it hurt knowing that it would be gone soon.

“But I do think there are other ways you can help me out with.”

He opened his eyes to look up into the soft blue gaze. “What do you mean?’ he asked carefully, not knowing where this was going.

Chris ducked his chin in, as if embarrassed. “I don’t enjoy causing you so much pain. I know you can take it, but hurting you hurts me too,” he murmured.

__

_‘Then why do you keep doing it?’_ Eddie pushed the whisper away and locked it deep in his mind. He’d learnt that arguing wasn’t wise. “Don’t feel bad, papi. I’m the one who offered. I can handle it, it doesn’t hurt that much,” he said softly, hoping to lighten Chris’ burden.

Chris smiled at the latino with sparkling eyes, his stomach jumping when Eddie leaned back into his palm when he caressed the jaw. “That’s why I love you so much,” he purred.

Eddie grinned when he felt Benoit kissed his forehead, beyond happy that the other man seemed pleased with him. “I love you too, ese.”

Chris stopped for a moment. “Then could you help me?”

“With what?”

“Well, our bedroom is getting a little stale and boring lately. Spicing it up would really help me, and it could help you too.”

Eddie went stiff, his throat constricting. He jerked away from Benoit, from the warm touches. Everything turned cold. “C-Chris, I want to help you, I really truly do, but I can’t do that. I can’t. I’m sorry,” he sputtered, a terrible weight of guilt crashing onto him. He knew he was being selfish, but he wasn’t ready. He just wasn’t. He reached out for Chris’ hand. “I’ll do anything for you, but I can’t do that. I’m sorry --” he stopped talking when the Canadian slapped him. He saw Chris’ face going remote once again, no longer cheerful and friendly, before his lover turned away and walked off. He sat in the chair, his shoulders slumping. _‘What’s wrong with me?’_ he thought despairingly.

Chris was cold and distant for the rest of that night, yelling and throwing stuff at him when he was too slow to react to orders.

The sleep was dreadful and he gave up trying to fall into as slumber when he was kicked out of the bed, the rough voice complaining about him hogging all the blankets.

It took three days for Eddie to give in.

They were eating breakfast and he could no longer take the stony silence. “I’ll do it.”

Chris looked up, his face instantly lighting when he heard the latino. “You sure? I don’t want you to do anything that’s not comfortable for you.”

The coffee felt like lead in his stomach and he wanted to throw up. Instead, Eddie put on a smile, ignoring how his mind was screaming at him to _stop_ and think about what he was getting himself into.

“Si, I’m ready.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 


	20. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some lines are blurred until you can't tell when one begins and where the other ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be one big chapter, but I decided to split it off into two separate ones because I'm tired.
> 
> Also, this story is on WattPad as well. If you preferred that site over this one, my username is "Swift2Faith" :)

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

_~ August 22, 2004 ~_

 

 

 

  
A few months had passed since Eddie saw Dr. Pike for his wrist. He hadn't gone back since then, but the physician always gave him a pitying look whenever they walk past each other in the hallway. It was awkward and Eddie made it a point to visit UrgentCare if he required medical assistance, avoiding Pike as often as he can. Of course, the upper management weren't happy with him seeking help outside of the company due to the complicated process of insurance and paperwork, but he was adamant. If he kept going to John, the doctor would end up asking a lot of questions he wouldn't be able to answer - not with a reasonable lie. It was easier to go to a clinic where the nurses and physicians were too worn out to bother asking how he got the injuries. Work had grown more difficult over the weeks as he withdrew himself further from his friends, not wanting to deal with their unnecessary concerns.

 

Not that his home life was exactly a paradise, since Chris decided to dealt out frustrations in....other ways besides beating him up.

 

Eddie shuddered from where he sat on the couch, bringing his knees up to his chest. He knew he agreed to let the Canadian try out certain moves, but they _hurt._  Each time was worse, leaving more bruises peppered between his legs and over his now-mottled hips. They throbbed and burned when he brushed over them in the shower. He didn't voice his discomfort to Chris, not after the first time.

 

Benoit had responded by shoving his face into the wall and thrusting harder until he was screaming with blood sliding down his inner thighs.

 

It was better to keep quiet and let it happen - that way, it was usually over quickly and he could have time to breathe after it was over. The man never stayed after the session, instead leaving him alone on the ground.

 

It stung, but Eddie understood.

 

He wouldn't want to be with himself either.

 

His musing got interrupted when hands suddenly dropped on his shoulders. He jumped and looked up to see Chris smiling down at him.

 

"Hello, love."

 

"H-Hi, Chris," Eddie returned the greeting. He didn't like the expression. His lover hardly ever smiled at him, and the coldness of this one bothered him greatly. His distress increased when Benoit walked around and sat in the stool, knees bracing against the front of the couch cushion he was sitting in, trapping him. He swallowed uneasily, eyes flickering to the coffee table. If the other wrestler was acting like this, then that meant he must have fucked something up.

 

"You having a good day, hmm?" Chris grunted, leaning forward slightly to trace the Latino's leg.

 

Eddie couldn't help twitching at the contact, finally meeting the blue eyes that lacked warmth. He had to be careful in his answer - if he said he wasn't having a good day, he'd be yelled at and called an ungrateful liar trying to weasel out. But if he said his day was great, then he was a lazy bastard who didn't have any care in the world. He won't win either way. "I guess it depends. I mean my day is good if yours is," he coughed, unsure of what precisely he should say.

 

Chris snorted humorlessly, cocking his head as if to mock his lover. "How typical. You're only saying that to save your own skin."

 

Eddie lowered his gaze, throat burning in shame because Benoit was right. He only gave answers that won't put him in hot waters, which was useless. The Canadian always found a way to blame him no matter what. "Sorry," he mumbled, fidgeting.

 

"Well, I'm having a terrible day actually. Thanks to the fact a certain someone hadn't done the dishes or vacuum or even cleaned out the garage."

 

Eddie blanched, a horrible sense not unlike terror falling upon him. _'How could I be such an idiota? It's Sunday!'_ His hands clenched the armrest while he fought off a panic attack. _'Stupid! Stupid!'_ He'd forgotten what day it was, deciding to relax and allow his more recent wounds to heal, not realizing he should have been cleaning. "I-I'm really sorry. I didn't know today was Sunday. I'll get right on it," he stammered, about to bolt out of the couch.

 

Chris frowned and shoved the smaller man back on the cushion. "Where do you think you're going? Sit the fuck down. I already did your chores since you chose to be a sloth," he snarled.

 

Eddie crossed his arms protectively in front of his chest and squeezed his thighs together, preparing himself for another beating. He no longer bothered trying to talk himself out of one - it didn't matter what he said. If Benoit wanted to hurt him, then that's that. There was no way to avoid the simple truth.

 

Chris let out a long, suffering sigh, closing his eyes. He was fed up with the Latino's awkwardness and while he would love to do more than to show just _how_  irritated he really felt, he had other things to discuss. "Don't slack off again. Anyways, I was talking to an old friend and he said I should throw a party since it's been a while we saw our old gang. I told him I would think about it. It's a great idea so I figured we could throw it on Friday night, and some people can stay in the guest room too," he murmured.

 

Eddie remained frozen, staring at the Canadian in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. One, he barely escaped the fists and two, a party?! He knew his lover, and the man utterly _despised_  parties. "Uh, I t-thought you hate those. You're always trying to get out of them," he protested, momentarily forgetting one of Chris' big rules - _'Don't talk back.'_

 

He was instantly reminded of it when Benoit's patience snapped and he was backhanded, his cheek turning a bright shade of red as it began to sting from the force of the slap. He flinched away from his best friend, apologies tumbling out of his mouth, cowering before the furious wrestler.

 

"When are you going to learn to shut up?" Chris spat, bristling when terrified brown eyes darted away from his. He exhaled sharply and sat down again, rubbing his forehead. "I know it's a bit weird, but it would be nice to see everyone again. I trust you won't misbehave and bother the guests," he growled quietly.

 

Eddie nodded hastily, lips clamped in one thin line. He jerked backwards when his burning cheek was cupped and lips pressed against his ear.

 

"Don't push me, alright? You're already on thin ice here."

 

"I understand," he spoke quietly, shivering under the intimate closeness of their two bodies. _'Please don't let him be in THAT mood.'_

 

"Good," Chris purred, giving a chaste kiss on the Latino's hairline, and moved away. "I'm going to take a shower," he commented, going up the stairs. He glanced over his shoulders, sighing when he saw the shorter man was still sitting. "Are you coming?"

 

Eddie deflated, numbly standing up to follow Benoit. He knew better than to argue; if he even tried to fight the Canadian, there would be pain and more blood. He didn't want to return to the clinic, not when he was there only a few days ago. As he trudged up the steps with a heavy heart, he wondered what it was like to look forward to sex, or to be unafraid of your lover.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

_~ Friday ~_

 

 

 

Chris finally finished the last of the decorations in the condo. He bought paper plates, napkins, cups, plastic spoons and forks, and beer along with soda. It took all day, but he was almost ready for the party. He glanced at his partner who was boiling the water on the stove. "You done preparing the food yet?" he asked.

 

Eddie shook his head. "No, sorry. I gotta do a couple more sets and then we'll be good," he murmured, watching the bubbles lazily. He snapped out of his stupor when Benoit hugged him from behind, arms tightly wrapped around his waist. He let out a startled squeak, hands gripping the handle of the oven. "C-Chris, I'm, um, I'm a little busy here, papi," he gasped out, embarrassed at how shaky his voice sounded.

 

Chris groaned, but let go of the smaller body. "You're no fun," he complained, pouting and resting his hips against the counter. He didn't see the brief fear that flashed across his lover's face.

 

"S-Sorry."

 

He scoffed at the soft answer. "Oh, just be quiet. Geez, you're a handful sometimes," he snapped. His good mood vanished and he could feel a headache coming on.  _'Why do I even bother talking to him?'_ He thought grouchily. He studied the way the Latino moved as Eddie opened a bag of Mac n Cheese, the biceps flexing.  _'He can be such a tease....'_ He woke up, remembering what he'd been meaning to talk to his friend about before the party started. "Ah, it nearly slipped my mind. I need you to promise me something. The last time we all got together was back on our anniversary. We're not going to have a repeat of that, are we?" he quipped.

 

Eddie frowned and stared at Benoit, not grasping what the Canadian was saying. "I don't understand?" he muttered, focusing on the pot again.

 

"I mean you're not going to fuck someone behind my back  _again,_ right?" Chris clarified, quirking one eyebrow up, as if it was obvious what he meant.

 

"For fuck's sake, Chris!" Eddie spat testily, slamming the box down. "How many times do I have to say it? I never cheated on you!" he shouted, whirling around to face Benoit, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind screeching at him to shut up before he dug his own grave. "That woman drugged me and I did try fighting. I tried, Chris! I tried everything, but I was fucking drugged. I never wanted it, when will you believe me?!" The past week had been tensed and he only managed to sleep a measly four hours in the past four days. He was tired of trying to justify himself to deaf ears.

 

Chris stood still, mouth agape and eyes wide in shock at the yelling. A feeling akin to rage began building up and he closed his jaw, stalking over to the Latino who abruptly went quiet as soon as he made a move.

 

Eddie's anger evaporated and he took a step backwards, hitting the stove. _'Oh fuck, oh fuck. Dios help me.'_ He screwed up, he screwed up bad. "D-Don't get mad. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me..." his pleas faded away when Benoit's expression darkened. He whimpered when his wrist was grabbed, and he turned clammy and pale when his hand was brought over the pot of boiling water. Steam coated his palm and he thrashed against the bigger body pinning his against the steel oven. "Stop! Please, Chris! I'm really sorry, I won't do it again!" he cried out, panicking when his hand was lowered, hovering mere inches above the popping bubbles. He jerked against the solid grip, his begging turning high-pitched. "No! No! Lo siento, don't! Stop!" He writhed uselessly, the back of his head grounded against the curve of Benoit's shoulder as he squirmed. "P-Please."

 

Chris quit and shoved Eddie away, the shorter wrestler crashing on the floor. He grasped the pot and walked to where his lover had scrambled into a corner.

 

Eddie shook his head frantically when the pot was held over him, as if the Canadian would pour the scalding hot water on him. He whined and pressed himself further against the wall, tears pooling in his eyes as the situation rapidly spiraled south. "Please, Chris, I'm sorry. I really really am. I'll be good. I'll be quiet. I won't yell again. Please," he beseech, praying for his partner to relent and take mercy on him.

 

For a few, terrifying seconds, both men stood still. Then Chris brought the pan down, setting it on the counter.

 

Eddie let out a relieved sigh, trembling as the shock wore off. He recoiled when Benoit crouched in front of him. 

 

"The next time you raise your voice at me," Chris warned, reaching over to fist his fingers in the dark hair. "I won't be so lenient."

 

Eddie swallowed, a pained cry slipping out when the hand yanked sharply. "Yes, sir," he choked, eyes watering.

 

Chris narrowed his own eyes, not satisfied with the answer. He nudged the legs apart with a knee and moved in closer until there was very little space between them. He once again picked up the pot, his free hand twisting the Latino's head to expose the neck.

 

Eddie freaked out, buckling from where he was half-sitting, half-laying underneath the heavy weight, but he couldn't move. He belatedly realized his arms were stuck under Benoit's knees, leaving him defenseless. "No! Please don't do this, I'll do anything you want! I'll blow you! Don't do this, it's going to hurt, please!!" he wailed, straining away from the man.

 

Chris paused, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Blow me, eh? I guess you'll whore yourself out of anything," he chuckled dryly. 

 

Tears began sliding down Eddie's cheeks when he saw the pot being tilted slightly.  _'Goddammit, why did I chose to wear a tank top today out of all days?'_ he thought madly, bracing himself.

 

But nothing could prepare him for blistering icy-hot agony that burst up as the first drops of the boiling water hit his bared neck where it joined his shoulder. An earsplitting shriek tore out of his throat and for one horrifying moment, he swore his skin was melting off. He tried to plead again, but his brain wasn't cooperating enough for his tongue to work, short-circuiting on the pain that overwhelmed his senses. 

 

Chris stopped pouring, covering the mouth with a sticky palm. "Shut up, are you trying to have the neighbors call the police on us again?" he snarled.

 

Eddie could only stare at Benoit dazedly, panting raggedly and quiet sobs spilling out of his chest as his neck throbbed. He felt dizzy and sick, sweat trickling down from his hairline. The hand left his mouth and he could finally breathe properly. Panic returned when fingers fumbled around the zipper and pulled his jeans down along with his boxers. He started fighting as the pot was raised again, poised above his groin threateningly. "Stop! I won't do it again, please! Don't do this, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" he screeched, desperately closing his thighs until a bent leg blocked him. "Chris, please!" he howled, nails scraping against the tiles.

 

Chris pulled back, placing the pot next to the flailing Latino. He towered over his lover, suddenly realizing how small and frail Eddie looked in his looming shadow. "I suppose I don't need to tell you what will happen if you ever talk to me in such a way again," he spoke quietly. "Do we understand each other?"

 

Eddie started to nod, but then winced when the nerves in his neck screamed in protest. "P-Perfectly," he replied. To his immense relief, his answer seemed to please the Canadian and Benoit got off of him. He sniffled and sat up, his back resting against the wall. 

 

Chris turned the stove off and looked over, eyes straying over to the pants still undone and the fresh burn on the side of his friend's neck. He watched Eddie wipe away the tears for a few minutes before he cleared his throat loudly.

 

Eddie stiffened when he heard Benoit, hands frozen in mid-air. He shivered and forced himself to raise his gaze. The other man's face was neutral, giving nothing away, and he felt cold to the bones.

 

"I'll prepare the food because your cooking sucks. I want you to clean up and get ready. Everyone is coming in a couple hours. Try not to dress too loosely. I already have enough problems without having to keep your ass out of trouble," Chris grumbled.

 

Eddie bowed his head, eyes prickling again. "Am I worth that little to you?" he mumbled under his breath.

 

"Excuse me?" Chris snapped, taking a step forward.

 

Eddie shifted on the floor, seeing the pot near him. He went rigid, mouth going dry at the sight of the water with the steam still rising. As if on cue, the burn pulsated on his neck. 

 

"Mind telling me what you just said?"

 

His gaze shot up to the Canadian, wild and unfocused and full of unadulterated terror. "I-I-I" he stammered, hastily pulling his jeans up. When Benoit came closer, he ran out of the kitchen.

 

Chris watched the Latino leave, hearing the panicked wrestler tripping up the stairs and a door slamming shut. "Take care of that burn too!" he yelled, moving the pot to pour the remaining water in the sink. 

 

In the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, Eddie huddled in the tub, rocking back and forth. An occasional whimper slipped out and he hiccuped, watching his teardrops splattered on the smooth ceramic under his bare feet. He didn't understand Benoit anymore. He still loved the man, but that love was overpowered by his intense fear and mistrust.

 

For the first time in the course of this relationship, he didn't know what to do. 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Two single hearts on fire,  
> Currently on the wire.  
> As inhibitions fade,  
> A focused moment made
> 
> Bruises & bitemarks say,  
> Takes one to bring the pain.  
> Passion lies in screams,  
> Of ecstatic dreams.
> 
> You're in a place for fear.  
> Lips are for biting here.  
> Let's make this moment worth the while.  
> Let's kill the night and go down in style.
> 
> Feel the magic rise.  
> We're plotting our demise,  
> Of perspiration and alcohol,  
> As I introduce the bedroom brawl.
> 
> You bring the ropes and chains,  
> I'll bring the pills and games.  
> I can show you pain,  
> And make you say my name.
> 
> You will believe my lies,  
> That I'm not like other guys.  
> That sparkle in my eyes,  
> Is just part of my disguise."
> 
>  
> 
> \- Bruises and Bitemarks by Good with Grenades


	21. Misgivings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People who were never in an abusive relationship rarely understand why the victim can't just leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Two o'clock  
> and I wish that I was sleeping.  
> You're in my head  
> like a song on the radio."  
> \- Next to You by Jordin Sparks

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Around 8:00 PM, a few of their mutual friends arrived -- Lita and Rey among them.

Chris greeted everyone warmly, hugging Lita and shaking Rey's hand politely. His eyes lit up excitedly when he saw a familiar black-haired man. "Rhyno!" he called out happily.

Rhyno smiled and allowed himself to be victim of Benoit's powerful bear hug. "Hey, man. I see you agreed with my idea of throwing a party," he laughed.

Lita dragged Rey to the kitchen, a grin on her face. It was rare for the Canadian to show emotions and whenever he did, she found it amusing. She looked around the room, crestfallen when she didn't spot Eddie. "Hopefully our Latino Heat will show up soon," she murmured lightheartedly.

Rey hummed quietly, feeling out of place in the condo. The only reason he chose to come here was to see his best friend. Things between them were strained at best and they hardly talked anymore. He missed the closeness they once shared. "I'm going to the bathroom," he mumbled.

"Okay. I think it's upstairs on the right," Lita directed, gesturing at the stairs as she began chomping on chocolate-covered strawberries.

Rey shook his head fondly and went up to the second floor. It felt strange being here alone and he glanced around, hearing a faint noise. Ignoring his bladder, he decided to investigate the source. His search took him to one of the bedrooms and he carefully peeked in, surprise and relief stealing his breath away when he saw who it was. "Eddie!"

Eddie jumped at the loud whisper and whirled around, terror briefly taking over before he recognized Mysterio. He sighed, running a hand through his hair to calm himself down. "Hey, ese. I wasn't expecting you to show up," he murmured. He'd thought it was Chris coming in to yell at him some more and he shivered, quickly disguising it in a stretch.

Rey shifted on his feet awkwardly. "I know we're not exactly on good terms," he began softly, meeting the brown eyes. He was saddened to find that he couldn't read his friend. How long, he wondered, had it been for the other latino to be so completely stone faced? He couldn't even remember the last time the bigger wrestler had a genuine smile free of bitterness. "I know I was being really judgmental and for that, I'm sorry." He did mean it. He truly wanted to make amends. His misgivings towards Chris hadn't changed, but he missed the friendship with Eddie. He would keep his mouth shut about the relationship if it meant he would get his hermano back in his life.

Eddie was taken back by the apology. He and Rey hadn't spoken since that meltdown five months ago, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't hurt by the masked man's words that day. "Um, it's fine. I know you cared and you were just worried." He scratched his neck, wincing when his nails scraped over the burn. _'Fuck.'_ He hissed through his teeth.

"Are you okay?" Rey asked when a flash of pain crossed Eddie's face. He walked closer and reached out to touch the spot. "What hurts?"

Eddie quickly slapped the hands away and moved off. He couldn't let the smaller wrestler see the burn -- he couldn't take any more lectures. "Just a pimple, don't touch it," he explained, tugging the collar of his sweatshirt up higher.

Rey looked over his amigo with critical eyes, noting the multiple layers of clothes the older Chicano was wearing. "Why don't you put on shorts and a tank top? It's August, aren't you hot?" he suggested gently, hoping he didn't come off as prying. Alabama certainly wasn't a cool place in the summer and he was worried Eddie would suffer a heatstroke.

"Nah. The heat...doesn't bother me," Eddie lied casually, shrugging his shoulders. He was usually burning up and on the verge of passing out most days when he was forced to leave the air conditioned safety of the condo, but he didn't have any choice. He had to hide the bruises. "I'm fine, holmes," he reassured cheerfully.

Rey wasn't convinced, but he had enough sense to drop the topic. "Okay," he relented, still troubled. "I gotta go piss, wait for me?"

"Yeah, sure," Eddie nodded, following Mysterio out in the hallway. He stood by the stairs, whistling lightly. It wasn't long until he heard the toilet flushing and he turned around to face his friend. "Ready to join the party?"

"Si. I'm surprised Chris is doing this. He never was the type for a get together," Rey commented, drying his hands off on his pants. "I'm sorry again."

Eddie rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Stop it, ese. We're cool, okay?" he snapped.

Rey blinked, shocked at the temper. "Didn't realize you're grumpy. What's up your ass?"

"Sorry," Eddie mumbled sheepishly, blushing. He didn't mean to be short with Rey. He was exhausted and still in pain from the fight he had with Benoit earlier. "Hadn't been getting much sleep lately," he admitted, rubbing his face tiredly.

"Oh. Well, I just want you to know that I'm here for you. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I don't want you to think you can't approach me, that's all."

He stared at Rey dumbfoundly and let out a dry chuckle, averting his gaze and suddenly feeling shy. "Kind of random, hombre."

Rey ducked his head in, embarrassed. "I know. Call me a mother hen or whatever, but I care," he muttered.

Eddie softened at the words. "Gracias," he murmured quietly as they walked down to the living room.

The party seemed to be in full swing now. A few more groups had shown up and the atmosphere had relaxed considerably. Eddie only recognized a handful of people that had came. He felt eyes on him, burning a hole in his back. He glanced around the room, spotting Rhyno who was staring at him intently. He swallowed hard and moved behind Rey, his skin prickling uneasily. _'Why is he here?'_ He tugged on his sleeves nervously, his gaze flickering over to the kitchen where he saw his lover. "I'm going to talk to Chris," he spoke to Mysterio.

"Okay, smell you around."

Eddie snorted at the childish joke and made his way to the Canadian. "Why didn't you tell me Rhyno was coming?" he spat. He knew it was a bad idea to confront the man, but he also knew Benoit wouldn't yell at him or hit him in front of a crowd.

Chris glimpsed at the latino, moving the pizza out of the oven and setting it on the counter. "What's your point?" he asked, wiping his hands off with a towel. "And I don't appreciate the tone you're taking with me," he growled.

Eddie went stiff, fear erupting inside. He shuddered and folded his hands together. "I-I, ah, I just want to know why he's here," he stammered. "He...He just gives me a bad vibe."

"What the hell you mean? He's a good man."

He flinched at the angry snarl, rubbing an arm to soothe himself. Talking to Benoit was like walking on minefields. He never knew if his next step would explode in his face. "He makes me uncomfortable..." he explained hesitantly. It was true. Rhyno had always gave him the creeps; looks that lingered far too long in the most inappropriate places. He remembered the match he had with the other wrestler a year ago, remembered the hands that strayed too close to his lower back and thighs. He'd nearly bolted out of the ring. Bile rose up in his throat at the unpleasant memory and he shook it off, not wanting to dwell on what'd been the longest night of his life. "I don't trust him," he added pensively.

Chris quirked an eyebrow up and regarded his cheri for a moment, baffled by the protests. "Aren't you being rude? You barely even know him," he snapped, growing tired of the latino playing the victim card yet again.

"I'm sorry, but it's a gut feeling. I can't explain why --" Eddie's mumbling cut off sharply when the Canadian grabbed his biceps painfully, twisting it. He whimpered and threw a frantic glance to the living room, but no one was paying attention to them. Relief and dread warred inside him, leaving him trembling. "I'm s-sorry," he squeaked, praying to God to take mercy on him and prevent Chris from hurting him again. 

"Rhyno is a good friend, I don't want to hear you insulting him ever again. Now go watch the guests and bring them drinks if they ask," Chris ordered, glaring at the smaller man who shrank from him.

Eddie nodded, grateful when he was released and shoved off. He hastily returned to the party, gingerly massaging where he'd been gripped. He let out a long sigh and checked the clock above the front door.

_8:30_

Great, he was in for a long night.

 

 

**  
**

* * *

**  
**

_A Few Hours Later_

 

**  
**

Everyone was on their way to being well and truly drunk as it neared midnight.

Lita sipped her beer, snorting when she saw Trish and Goldberg arguing over the last hotdog. She raised the can in greeting to Victoria who walked past her, and she leaned against the wall, surveying the room. She was tipsy, not quite wasted, but buzzed enough to feel slightly giddy. Her heart jumped in her throat when a certain wrestler came up to her. _'Oh, Lord help me.'_ She took another chug.

"Hi, Amy. It's good to see you," Eddie murmured, lowering his eyes timidly. He hadn't talked with Lita for several months and he had to admit he missed her. Perhaps he could patch things up with her just as Rey had done with him. Of course, that depended on if she was in a forgiving mood today.

"Hey, Eddie. Long time no see. These drinks are delicious," Lita replied chirpily.

"Th-That's great. Um, I want to apologize for being a culo this year."

She stared at the latino in puzzlement. "You haven't been an asshole. What are you squawking about?"

"Uh, we haven't spoken to each other for a while, and I've avoided you. I'm sorry."

"Oh," she laughed and shook her head. "Oh, sweetie, don't you worry your pretty little head about that. I know I can be a prissy prying drama queen. Don't feel bad, alright? I'm here for you whether or not you need me. It's all good," she rambled, drinking again. _'Goodness, why do I feel so bubbly?'_

Eddie's cheeks turned pink at the endearing tone. He didn't deserve the kindness nor the warm look Amy gave him. He suddenly felt horrible. Both her and Rey held no grudges towards him, despite the way he'd acted. He was a terrible friend and yet they were more than happy to take him back. Guilt weighed him down and he could barely suppress a despairing cry at the realization. _'Chris is right. All I do is run away and blame everyone,'_ he thought sullenly. A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see a soft smile.

"Why so down? It's a party. Stay and watch people with me, I guarantee you'l be laughing your ass off in no time."

He forced a smile and dipped his head. "Okay."

Lita was about to point at Molly Holly and Matt when someone accidentally bumped into her from behind. The force of the push sent her crashing forward and her mouth slamming against Eddie's when her friend faced her again.

For a long moment, they both stood still. Her brain was screaming at her. _'You're kissing him! Dude, you are totally kissing him!'_ She backed off and laughed hysterically. "Wow your lips are soft," she quickly shut up. _'Shit, did I say that out loud? Oh fuck me.'_ She chugged the beer again nervously.

Eddie had turned bright red, petrified on the spot and he didn't know what to do. It felt like the room had gone quiet and everybody was staring at him. Something wrapped around his chest and squeezed. _'Fuck, fuck. Did Chris see this? Oh God, I'm so dead.'_

Lita kept giggling, nearly guffawing uproariously as her self-control rapidly slipped away. Thankfully, no one had saw the awkward _thing_ that’d just happened. She turned around to punch Batista who’d tripped against her and went to crack a joke with Eddie, only to find the latino running away from her. “Oh fuck, there goes that,” she drawled and took another sip, dancing to the beat of the music playing on the stereo.

Eddie stumbled up the stairs, gasping as his lungs spasmed. This was a bad attack, the worst he’d have in days, and he clutched his shirt, struggling to get air in. He blindly careened into an empty room, closing the door and collapsing on the bed. Gradually, the tremors and  panting died down, and he could breathe properly. He coughed and slowly stretched out from where he’d been curled up in a ball. He didn’t know why the kiss freaked him out so much, but he hoped Benoit didn’t see it. He didn’t even want to think about what the Canadian would do to him. _‘He didn’t follow me...so maybe he didn’t --’_  His thoughts got interrupted when he heard another door opened. He froze and look over his shoulder, his blood stopping cold. _‘Oh, Dios. I went in the wrong room...’_ He realized weakly.

“Well, ain’t this a surprise? You here to have some fun with old Rhyno?”

He suppressed a gag and scrambled off the mattress, retreating to a corner all the while keeping his eyes on the pendejo. “Stay away from me,” he bristled, puffing himself up to look more threatening.

Rhyno only smirked and sauntered over closer. He could see the faint shakings that rippled through the lithe frame and knew Guerrero was bluffing. “It would be a crime to stay away from you, my dear,” he purred, voice low and husky as he slid a knee up between the legs, trapping the latino against the wall.

Eddie whined, recoiling from the hot air bellowing out into his face. He tried yanking when his wrist was grabbed, a sickly fear coating his body when he heard a belt unbuckling. His hand ghosted over bare skin and he realized Rhyno was guiding him down the stomach. _‘Oh God, I’m going to puke.’_ He twisted again, whimpering when deft fingers crept under his drawers and grasping him gently. “What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!” he gasped, shuddering at the caresses. Teeth nibbled on his ear and he fought back tears as the situation overwhelmed him. “Goddammit, no means no, you pervert!” he growled, anger and revulsion overriding his fear.

Rhyno paused and snickered, biting into the lobe. “Not if no one can hear you,” he whispered darkly. “Besides it’s fair. I’ve liked you first and little Chrissie knows that, I’m merely reaping the rewards.”

The cold words stopped Eddie in his tracks, dejection crushing him. He gave another half-hearted struggle, but it was already clear he wasn’t going anywhere. He gave up, muffled sobs escaping him as he rested his forehead on one broad shoulder.

“Shh,” Rhyno shushed, mockingly planting a loving kiss on one wet cheek. His eyes caught the brown and yellow bruises covering the hips when the sweater rode up. “Ah, I see Chrissie likes to mark you up, hmm?” he teased, nuzzling against the neck. His only response was a loud wail when he squeezed between the thighs again, bringing Guerrero’s hand right over his bulge.

The door slammed open. Rhyno glanced behind, frustration mounting. Great. The Canadian just had to ruin everything before he could really start having fun.

Eddie cried harder, already knowing who had came in. He could recognized the stiff mood that fell upon the room and the sharp intake of breath. _‘I’m so screwed.’_

“Get out.”

Rhyno grinned and released the latino. He tugged his pants up and redid the belt, fixing the rest of his clothes before leaving. “See ya later,” he called out to both men as he returned downstairs.

Eddie sank to the floor, bringing his legs up and hiding his face in the raised knees. He was definitely going to get it now. He always seemed to fuck up whenever his lover gave him a chance to redeem himself.

“Mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Chris asked softly, his calm demeanor hiding his fury that was reaching dangerous levels.

“I-I swear I tried to fight him off. H-He kept touching me,” Eddie hiccuped, not bothering to wipe the tears away as he looked up at Benoit, vision blurred.

Chris scowled and took another step, hands curling into fists. This was the final straw and he was done playing nice.

“H-He said something about it being his right to t-touch me because he told y-you that he liked me f-first,” Eddie continued, hitching when his breathing faltered in the hysterical sobs.

Chris paused at that, his eyes widening. His anger instantly redirected towards Rhyno and he growled low in his throat. He knelt down and reached out to cup the latino’s face, his lover flinching as if he'd delivered a punch.

“I’m sorry!”

He hushed the wailing man and leaned in to hug Eddie, rubbing the back reassuringly. “It’s okay, cheri. I’m not mad at you.”

Eddie went rigid, focusing on the lamp across the room as disbelief ricocheted through him. _‘He..He didn’t hit me?’_ he thought, stunned at the fact that Benoit wasn’t beating him up right now. _‘He didn’t hit me??’_

“There you go. It’s okay, dear. I’ll go talk to that bastard, don’t worry,” Chris soothed, standing up again. “Go wash your face. Don’t want anyone to see you crying,” he murmured.

Eddie met the blue eyes, feeling dizzy and disorientated. “Y-You’re not going to hit me?” he asked, still reeling that he didn’t have any more bruises added to him.

“Of course not,” Benoit answered, frowning. “It’s not your fault, not this time.”

Eddie watched the Canadian walk off, still sitting on the floor. _‘He didn’t hit me...or yelled at me...or called me a puta...what?’_ He couldn’t believe it. He got on his feet shakily, drying the tears off with a sleeve. He made his way into the bathroom out in the hall, turning the water on and splashing his face. He looked up in the mirror, staring at his reflection. “He didn’t hit me,” he whispered, amazed.

“Who didn’t hit you?”

Eddie yelped, jumping and spinning around to see Rey peering at him in concern. “How long have you been up here?” he sputtered.

“I just came up to take a break from the party and I saw the light on in here. Who didn’t hit you?” Rey pressed.

“Ah, no one. I didn’t say anything.”

“Eddie…” Rey sighed and then narrowed his eyes when he saw how red his friend’s were. “Have you been crying?”

“Um, no. I, um,” Eddie fumbled for words, bowing his head and fidgeting. He couldn’t tell the truth, couldn’t say that Rhyno basically assaulted him. Mysterio would either laugh at him or tell him to get over it, and he didn’t want to deal with the jeering. _‘He would just say it’s my fault, and he would be right.’_ He bit on his lip and shrugged. “It’s just a misunderstanding. My allergies are acting up, you know how my sinuses get this time of the year,” he finished, wincing at how pathetic his excuse sounded.

“Okay, whatever you say. But who hit you?”

“Nobody…”

“You said --”

“No, I didn’t.”

Rey gave up, waving his arms in exasperation. “Oh, fine. You don’t want to talk about, don’t. But are you okay?”

Eddie smiled thinly. “Si, I’m good.”

“Come downstairs then?”

He held his breath. He wanted to say no, wanted to avoid being anywhere near Rhyno, but that would only raise Rey’s suspicions. “Okay,” he mumbled.

 

**  
**

 

 

* * *

 

**  
**

 

 

Chris tracked down the black-haired man to the pool table. “I need to speak with you,” he muttered.

Rhyno smirked and followed the Canadian to a more private corner where people wouldn’t hear them. He didn’t feel bothered by his friend’s anger, knowing Benoit wouldn’t do anything outrageous. “What’s up, Chrissie?”

“Why were you touching my partner like that? You know he’s with me.”

“Aw, come on. You know how I like to have a little fun, especially considering I had dibs on him first.”

“He’d never reciprocated your affections, not then not now. He’s not a property you can claim either.”

“Care to explain the bruises?”

Chris stiffened at the words. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snarled, glowering at Rhyno.

“I’m not stupid, Chrissie. I saw the little marks you left on him. Let me guess, you step in when he’s getting out of line? The Latino Heat gets out of control, hmm?” Rhyno purred, grinning ear to ear when he saw Benoit’s nostrils flared and knew he hit the target. “Poor babe was a mess. He was too scared to even defend himself, it was a sorry sight. Have you done that much damage to him that he‘s so completely helpless now? I have to admit it was a turn on, I couldn’t resist myself a taste..” He licked his lips, recalling the whimpers with glee.

“I suggest you leave. You’re no longer welcome here,” Chris cut in quietly, his voice soft.

“Okay, bye,” Rhyno drawled, patting Benoit’s shoulder and walking to the front door.

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed inwardly. Granted, it was his fault for not listening to the latino’s vocal distrust of that bastard. He was still furious, but he masked it and tucked it away for later. He would have to have a chat with Eddie tomorrow once everyone left.

He went to the kitchen to get the last of the food, hoping the party would be over soon. He was getting tired.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie carried Rey’s and Lita’s bags to the guest room down the hallway on the first floor. He placed them on one of the beds and flexed his wrists that burned from lugging the heavy duffle bags. ' _I’m getting out of shape.’_

__

“Thanks for helping,” Rey murmured, bringing another bag in and dropping it on the floor by the bedside table. He yawned and scratched his chin as he sat on the twin mattress. “It’s been one largo week.”

Eddie grunted in agreement, fixing his sweater and about to leave. He nearly walked into Lita.

Lita stepped back with an “oof” and giggled. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Eddie blushed and mumbled an apology of his own, trying to get out of the room, but then his collar was grabbed.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” Lita murmured, her face tinged pink.

“You’re fine. It was an accident so it’s okay,” Eddie dismissed the diva’s guilt. “No harm. I gotta go help Chris clean up.” He slipped free of the red-haired woman’s grip and returned to the main room where Benoit was sweeping. It’d been a little over an hour since that incident and pretty much everyone had left.

“Oh good, you’re here. Do me a favor and wash the dishes,” Chris ordered, pointing at the sink filled with dirty plates and cups.

“Okay,” Eddie assented, turning the spout on and scrubbing the china with a sponge. Several minutes was spent in silence with the water running and the sounds of the vacuum.

Chris put the sweeper away and went to help put the dishes in the dishwasher, humming quietly under his breath.

Eddie couldn’t help the small smile that graced across his face. This was one of the very few activities he and the Canadian shared that didn’t result in pain. It made him happy to spend time with his lover doing something peacefully and unhurried.

“Are you sleeping with me tonight?”

Just like that, the faint spark of happiness vanished without a trace. Anxiety drummed inside and he focused on a particularly stubborn grime that clung to the bottom of a cup. With Benoit, only two things happened -- a beating or sex. Since the man didn’t seem to be mad at him, then that surely meant the _other_ thing would happen. He felt cold and sick, shivering under the piercing blue gaze. “I, ah. I was going to spend the night with Rey-Rey and Lita, seeing how I haven’t been able to hang out with them lately,” he responded, fiddling with the sponge nervously.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll see you in the morning,” Chris murmured, pecking his partner on the forehead before heading upstairs.

Eddie gaped at the retreating form of the Canadian, bewildered at the other wrestler’s apparent laidback attitude _. ‘He didn’t even accuse me of being selfish...’_ He snapped out of his daze, flushing as he did the rest of the dishes. It was so unexpected and he didn’t know what to think.

Once the sink was finally empty and clean, he poked his head in the guest room again, noting how Rey and Lita were already settled in for the night “Any chance I can bunk with you?”

Rey glanced up to see the hopefulness behind the brown eyes and nodded with a friendly grin. “Si, that’s not a problem with me.”

“Nor is it with me!” Lita chirped.

Eddie beamed, relieved that he didn’t have to spend another restless night with Benoit. “Okay, I’m gonna go change and then I’ll be back,” he quipped, closing the door and going into the other room across the hallway. Thankfully, his work bag was still in here. He unzipped it and pulled out an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, sighing. It’d be wonderful to get out of the jeans and the layers he had on -- he was drenched in sweat.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Chris came back downstairs, noticing how clean the condo is now in the aftermath of the party. All the dishes were in the machine and the sink was dry, free of any messes. _‘Guess he’s good at something,’_ he praised mentally. He got distracted by knocking. “Who the fuck?” he grumbled, walking to the front door and opening it. It was one in the morning and he had no idea who on Earth would be here this late.

“Heyo! Sorry, I know it’s shitty timing. Any chance I can crash at your place? My flight got delayed and all the hotels in the area are booked,” Adam rasped breathlessly, carrying several luggages as he waited outside in the rain.

“Yeah, sure. You missed the party,” Chris muttered, letting the soaking wet man in. He got a grateful look in return.

“Sorry again. This hadn’t been my day. I’ll make it up to you though. Where should I stay?”

“There’s a room down the hall by the kitchen on your left,” Chris gestured, wrapping his robe tighter around him.

“Alright, thanks. I’ll make breakfast for everyone tomorrow,” Edge gushed, wandering to where Benoit had directed him. _‘Oh, today has been lousy,’_ he groaned quietly.

Chris rolled his eyes fondly and closed the door. “Good night,” he parted over his shoulder as he retired to his room.

Edge waved the other Canadian off. He fumbled with the knob and stumbled in. “Hey--what the hell?” he gasped, alarmed at the sight before him.

Eddie had taken off the blue sweatshirt and was now removing the white tee shirt that was halfway up his chest, revealing the fading bruises littering his abdomen and lower stomach. He met the blond’s stare, his own gaze wide and frantic. He quickly tugged the shirt down, but it was too late. Copeland had already seen everything.

“What the fuck, Guerrero?” Edge demanded, shocked at the severity of the injuries. “Who did that to you?”

“What?”

“Who the fuck hurt you, Eddie?”

Eddie winced at the rawness of the taller wrestler’s voice. He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, too shy to meet the disbelieving gawk that was fixated on him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s from work,” he lied.

“Don’t bullshit me. _That_ is not from work. Did Chris do this to you?”

“No!”

“It is him, isn’t it? That’s why Rey is so convinced y’all need to break up --”

“No, it’s not him. Please, it’s not him,” Eddie pleaded, shaking his head. ' _No, no, why did he have to see this?_ ' He had to make Adam believe him before everything get blown out of proportion.

“Is something wrong with you? Why would you even defend him?” Adam spat in disgust, scoffing when the latino flinched at his spiteful tone.

“Adam, please…”

“Get the fuck out.”

Eddie dropped his head in defeat and put the black hoodie on, grabbing the bag and walking out of the room, avoiding the scornful glare.

Lita looked up from the _US Weekly_ magazine she’d been reading when she heard someone coming in. To her dismay, it was Eddie who was on the verge of tears and visibly upset. “What’s wrong?” she asked, on her feet in an instant and cupping her friend’s chin to gently tilt the face upward.

Eddie trembled and closed his eyes. “I think Adam hates me,” he mumbled.

Lita’s heart broke and she hugged the wrestler firmly. “Sweetie, what makes you think that?” she questioned, rubbing the back tenderly. She led Eddie to the bed, her fingers brushing through the messy hair as he laid down and curled up under the blanket, clutching a pillow.

“I just know it.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” Lita soothed, nestling next to the shaking body, hoping her presence would provide comfort. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see. He can be a grumpy ass sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he hates you.”

Rey came out of the bathroom, surprised to find his best friend sobbing into a pillow. He met Lita’s eyes, speechless. The diva only shook her head and made a shushing motion with her lips. He bit back questions and climbed into the other bed, worried about his hermano. He wanted to join Amy, but there was a chance his fellow latino would grow more distressed, so he stayed put and looked on helplessly.

Eventually, Eddie’s crying ceased, his hands loosening from where they were holding onto the cushions tightly. Lita continued caressing his hair and whispering soft reassurances.

“He would never hate you.”

_‘But he does. He doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me,’_ he argued, depressed. Adam would probably yell at him tomorrow and if Chris found out that he’d exposed himself so carelessly to an outsider…. He buried his face in the blanket, shudders racing up his spine.

“Everything will be okay, sweetie.”

Eddie desperately wished he could believe that, but he wasn’t naive. Tomorrow would be hell, he was certain. His eyelids grew heavy and despite his shame, he passed out under the rhythmic lilt to Lita’s voice.

Lita felt her friend falling asleep, sighing quietly. She was perturbed by how agitated Eddie was, but she knew it wasn’t the time to press for answers. She was just grateful that he managed to sleep. Even though she’d kept assuring him that Adam didn’t dislike him, the latino was inconsolable, and she sensed it was exhaustion more than anything that stopped the sobs. She peeked over to the smaller bed where Rey was watching them.

“What happened? He was fine ten minutes ago.”

“I don’t know, but he thinks Copeland hates him.”

Rey’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, stupefied at the reason. “But why?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find out tomorrow I guess. Let’s try to get some rest, okay?” Lita murmured, massaging her temples as a headache came on. The unmasked man nodded reluctantly and laid down. She focused her attention back on the sleeping latino and wrapped her arms around the slim frame, content that there seemed to be no dreams disturbing his slumber. She closed her eyes, praying things will look better in the morning.

  
The last thing they needed was another blowout.

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhyno always came off as creepy to me XD


	22. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You loved all of my insecurities away.  
> But now you’re gone and they’re here to stay.”

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Rey woke up first, yawning and sitting up to rub his eyes. He’d slept fitfully throughout the night when horrible dreams plagued his mind. He glanced across the room and he couldn’t hold back a smile at what he saw. Eddie and Lita were curled up together, limbs entangled. He stifled a giggle and climbed out of the bed. Amy had told him about the accidental kiss yesterday and he’d nearly pissed himself laughing as the diva’s face turned redder by the minute. If anything, he was honestly surprised it hadn’t happened sooner, knowing her affectionate feelings towards the other latino. He went to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, reaching for a handcloth. He returned to the bedroom, going over to shake his friends.

Eddie mumbled something under his breath, too rushed and inaudible to decipher, and rolled over on the other side.

Lita’s eyes fluttered open and she stared at Mysterio groggily. “Hmm?”

“Rise and shine. It’s almost 11, unless you prefer to doze with sleeping beauty here?” Rey teased, no longer hiding his amusement.

“What?” Lita grumbled, looking over and realizing that she’d been practically on top of Eddie all night. She blushed furiously and scrambled off the bed, scowling when Mysterio began chortling. “Shut up,” she hissed, fixing her hair up in a messy bun.

“You have a crush on him, señorita.”

“Do not!”

“You so do!”

“What’s going on?”

They jumped at the new voice, their heads snapping to the door.

“Hey, Edge!” Lita greeted, about to go give Adam a hug when she noticed the contemptuous glimpse he flashed at Eddie. She suddenly remembered how distress her friend was last night. _‘Did they have a fight?’_ she wondered. Before she could utter a question, Copeland spoke again.

“Who has a crush on whom?”

Her face flushed again and she crossed her arms, throwing a glare at Rey who slinked away with an unapologetic grin. “That little brat is convinced I like Eddie because I accidentally kiss him at the party yesterday. I was drunk. Some butt pushed me and the rest is history,” she explained, her body heating up at the blurry memory.

“Huh,” Edge grunted, his gaze still on the sleeping latino. “Did Chris throw a fit?”

Lita frowned, growing more uneasy at this bizarre change in the Canadian’s behavior. He wasn’t his usual lively self today and it made her nervous. “I don’t think Chris even saw us, to be honest.”

Edge snorted and kicked the bed. “Wake up,” he ordered, shaking the smaller man.

Eddie jumped at the rocking motion, his eyes flying wide open. He sat up hastily, scrambling away from the loud voice. He froze when he recognized Adam once his disorientation stabilized.

“I need your help cooking breakfast. I don’t know where y’all keep your stuff,” Edge muttered gruffly.

“You could have let him sleep in a little longer,” Lita complained, placing a soothing hand on Eddie’s trembling shoulder. She could tell he was ruffled and she didn’t blame him. Anyone would be freaking out if they were woke up like that.

“What? So you can seduce him?”

Both she and Eddie flinched at the tone, and she could see Rey gaping at Adam in shock. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she spat. This was _nothing_ like Edge. The man was never nasty like this. “Seriously, what’s up your ass?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Come on, let’s get cracking,” Edge growled, turning around and snapping his fingers.

Eddie swallowed his fear down and carefully got on his feet, pulling the sleeves down to appease his anxiety. He wasn’t looking forward to the yelling that was sure to come, but he didn’t know how he could avoid it.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

He glanced at Lita who was staring at him in concern, and shook his head mutely before he walked out.

Lita watched the two wrestlers leave. “What happened between them?”

“I don’t know, it’s weird,” Rey agreed, sharing the diva’s worry.

She sighed and began making the bed, hoping to distract herself. This felt like a storm was about to break out and rain havoc.

She only hoped they can find shelter before then.

                                                                                                                               

Eddie quietly followed Adam to the kitchen, cursing inwardly. He wished he could go back in time or at least erase Edge’s memory just so he could get out of the confrontation looming over the horizon. He watched the blond stopped and faced him, the dark eyes glittering with barely-disguised indifference. It made him feel inferior, worthless of any concern the other man might had for his well being.

“How long have you been hiding this?”

He didn’t answer, lowering his gaze shamefully at the touch of derision under the words. “Please don’t think that. It’s a misunderstanding ..” He began, shutting up instantly when Edge grabbed the collar of his jacket, forcing him to meet the glare. He shrank almost instinctively, expecting a fist. Why would he expect anyone to understand that what he had with Chris wasn’t toxic or harmful, that Chris lashing out on him was normal, and that he was okay with it? Everyone was convinced that he needed to leave and he was tired of trying to change their minds. _‘I don’t even know why they think this is bad...’_

__

“Is there something wrong in your head?” Adam snapped, knocking the latino’s temple with his knuckles rather cruelly, earning a faint whimper. “Do you get off on this? Getting beaten up and hiding it?”

“No!” Eddie spat venomously, elbowing his friend off. “You just don’t know! Don’t assume anything about me.” He straightened his clothes, biting on his lip. He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he didn’t want to hear how disgusted Copeland was with him. _‘I already know I’m pathetic.’_

“Then why won’t you tell me who’s hurting you? Do Lita and Rey even know what’s going on, or are you keeping secrets from them too?” Edge persisted. He wasn’t going to let this slide by without a fight.

Eddie flinched and looked away, his silence speaking volumes.

Edge snorted, staring at his old friend in disbelief. “Wow. I don’t believe you,” he snarled, shoving the smaller man.

Eddie squeaked, stumbling backwards. Another violent push sent him crashing against the cabinets and he fell on the floor. Pain sliced up from his back and he curled away from Adam when the Canadian took a step closer to him. He raised his eyes to the remote face, shaking from where he was sprawled on the ground.

“To think I even cared about you.”

His heart broke at the cold tone and he blinked rapidly, not wanting to cry in front of the one person he thought he could trust. _‘How estúpido of me,’_ he thought, feeling horribly vulnerable.

Edge sighed, disappointed in the latino. He was so confident that Eddie had been doing okay, that Rey’s worry was unnecessary. How wrong he was, in the turnout of what he’d seen last night. The bruises were forever burned in his brain. Eddie’s stubborn insistent that it wasn’t Chris didn’t convince him because he didn’t know who else could possibly be responsible for that much damage.

It was sickening.

“You can go. Shoo,” he muttered, no longer looking at the mess Eddie had become. He opened a drawer beneath the oven and took a pan out. It was a shame Benny didn’t have an electric skillet so he could cook six pancakes at a time, but he would have to make do. There was a faint rustling sound and he took a quick peek, Guerrero already out of the kitchen. He turned his attention back to where he began mixing the ingredients.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lita and Rey were finished packing the rest of their clothes and belongings in the suitcases with the help of Eddie.

“Ah, I forgot how much crap I had,” Lita murmured, sitting down to catch her breath.

Rey nodded his head in agreement, rubbing the sweat off of his forehead. “Got plenty for this upcoming week though. I’ll never be happy going to laundromats.”

A ghost of a smile traced Eddie’s lips at his friends’ ramblings. He missed the days where they would all get together and whine about quarters and gas prices.

“Are you okay, Ed? You’ve been silent ever since you came back,” Lita questioned, studying her best friend softly.

“Si, I’m good. Just bueno.”

“Did you and Adam have a talk or something?”

“He only wanted me to show him where the pots and pans were,” Eddie lied, shrugging casually. He already knew he couldn’t tell the truth to anyone -- they would just get mad at him like Edge did. He didn’t care much for the disdain.

Lita frowned, not buying into it. She could tell he was upset when he’d returned to them not long after, and knowing Adam, it hadn’t been a pretty talk. “Okay, we’re here for you if you ever need to confide in us, alright?”

Eddie forced a falsely bright smile and dipped his head. “Si. I appreciate it.”

“Time for breakfast, ladies!”

Rey groaned at Adam’s familiar call and stood up. “That’s our cue. Let’s go eat,” he pushed Lita and Eddie out of the room. _‘Lovebirds,’_ he added mentally with a grin.

The dining table was already set with plates, silverware, cups, and napkins. Edge was busy cooking the remaining pancakes and eggs, the bacon and sausages already done.

Chris was sitting at the end of the table closest to the living room, and he lighted up when he saw his lover. “Hey, cherí. May I have a quick word with you?”

Eddie stared at Benoit, shocked. His partner never gave him a choice, it was always an order. This change was unnerving. _‘It’s because other people are here. If you were alone..’_ the realization came like a slap to the face and he clenched his jaw. “Sure.”

Chris smiled and stood up, walking upstairs and gesturing for Guerrero to come with him.

Ignoring the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat, Eddie followed the Canadian, feeling sick with nerve. _‘Did Adam confront him?’_ he couldn’t help but think. If that was the case, then this wouldn’t end well for him.

Once they were in the master bedroom, Chris closed the door and looked at his lover.

Eddie fidgeted restlessly, nearly bursting with questions, but he stayed quiet. At least this way, he wouldn’t risk triggering Chris’ temper and earn another beating. He wasn’t sure what he should expect. A lecture? A threat? Or perhaps a punch?

It certainly wasn’t a hug he was prepared for.

Strong arms wrapped around him in an intimate embrace and he was too astonished to speak. Warm air brushed against his ear, snapping him out of his daze.

“I’m sorry about last night. I talked to Rhyno and he’s no longer welcomed here. If he bothers you at work, just let me know and I’ll take care of it,” Benoit murmured, pecking a cheek. “I love you.”

Eddie had to consciously close his mouth at this strange declaration. Chris had never voiced affections towards him, at least not like this, and it left him fumbling in the dark without any idea of what he should do or say. He never felt so lost. “Ah, I-I love you too,” he stammered, his head spinning.

Chris kissed the lips, gently massaging them with care.

Eddie was once again stunned. This was something Chris hadn’t done for a very long time. There was none of the usual roughness, demanding lust he’d grown to expect. This was … endearing, tender. It reminded him so much of the old days, before the violence and yelling, that he started trembling.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Chris soothed, squeezing the smaller body delicately.

“I miss you.”

He laughed, looking down at Eddie in puzzlement.  “I’m right here, cheri.”

Eddie shook his head and reached out to cup Benoit’s chin, memorizing the crinkles around the edges of the dazzling blue orbs as the Canadian smiled. “No. I miss _you_ ,” he whispered before burying his face in the broad chest.

Chris softened, a hand rummaging the dark hair. “You’re beautiful. I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmured, half to himself.

After several moments of staying in each other’s arms, Chris broke away reluctantly. “Come on, we better head back before they look for us,” he teased, grabbing the latino’s hand to tug Eddie after him.

Eddie stared down at their entertwined fingers, a tingly feeling racing up his spine at the sensation.

“You okay?”

The question startled him and he met the worried gaze. “You never did this before.”

Chris was confused until he followed Eddie’s glance to their joined hands and he understood. “Maybe I should do this more often,” he joked, throwing a wink and going down the stairs.

Eddie blushed at the man’s playfulness, dutifully walking behind his lover. Even so, he was happy. He missed this side of Chris, he can only hope it can last.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

The group ate breakfast at the mahogany table. It was truly a buffet, with stacks of pancakes and an endless supply of eggs, bacon, and sausages. It wasn’t long until everyone’s stomachs were full and soon the conversation turned to gossip.

Adam wiped his mouth with a napkin as he studied Eddie and Chris who were sitting side by side. The two seemed to be friendly enough, and Eddie didn’t appear to be scared or tensed, all smiles and laughing. It was enough to make him doubt himself, but then he remembered the bruises. With his resolve now rock solid as the table itself, he sipped the apple juice and set his glass down. “Hey, Chris. Lita was telling me something funny earlier …”

The talking paused and everyone looked at Adam. Lita broke out in a cold sweat. _‘God, please no.’_ She glanced at Eddie sitting across from her, his brows furrowing in bemusement. _‘Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.’_ This was about to hit the fan.

“Hmm, what’s that?” Chris grunted, drinking the last of his orange juice.

“That she and your little latino heat shared a kiss at the party.”

All color drained out of Eddie’s face and he slinked in his chair, horror and humiliation burning him up from the inside.

Rey glared at Edge spitefully, beyond furious. This was not the time nor the place to bring this up.

Chris was quiet for a minute, giving nothing away. He suddenly let out a big, hearty laugh, startling the group.

Eddie went stiff with surprise, but didn’t say anything. He knew Benoit -- the man will reassure their friends and once they left, it was going to be a nasty fight. He made a mental note to go to UrgentCare later tonight if it get bad.

“It was an accident,” Lita blurted out, her face red. “I was drunk and someone shoved me from behind.”

Chris continued chuckling, waving the diva off.  “Don’t worry, I’m not mad. It’s just hilarious.”

“It..is?” she said doubtfully.

“Well, I know you two wouldn’t be sneaking around having an affair. No offense, but you wouldn’t make a great couple,” Chris drawled, cutting his pancakes into smaller bites.

Lita closed her mouth, a bit stung at the subtle jab.

“I mean, there’s a reason Eddie is with me, not you.”

“Chris!” Eddie hissed, slapping Benoit’s arm. “Stop, you’re being mean --” he quickly stopped talking when his lover flashed him an icy glare, letting him know how pissed the man really was. He swallowed and looked down.

“No, it’s fine. He’s right,” Lita cut in, placing a smirk on her face. _‘It’s not like Eddie and I would have a chance anyways.’_ She’d known for years that her best friend had a crush on Chris for like ever.

“You weren’t kidding, Adam. That is a funny story,” Chris added as he chewed on a piece of sausage.

Edge grinned and gave a small nod. “I know you’d enjoy it,” he responded cheerfully. Though he didn’t anticipate this reaction, he already had plant the seeds. He could tell by the rigid posture of Eddie that the happy-go-lucky couple facade was shattered.

The latino didn’t understand it at the time, but this was for both his and Chris’ own good.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Chris held the front door open as everyone began leaving.

Eddie carried a heavy duffle bag to Lita’s rental car, putting it in the backseat. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why Chris was being so nasty,” he apologized sheepishly.

“No, it’s fine. I’m good,” Lita assured the wrestler, loosening her hair up. “I just wish I didn’t tell Adam. I didn’t think he would bring it up to Chris,” she groused.

“No worries. He’s not mad,” Eddie lied, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Lita eyed the latino carefully. She hadn’t missed the brief terror on his face during the tensed exchange at the table earlier. “I hope not. I don’t want to cause any trouble between you two,” she confessed.

“You haven’t. I’ll see you around,” Eddie offered a small smile and carefully hugged the diva.

“Yeah, don’t be a stranger,” she teased, returning the hug. She relished in her friend’s warmth, already missing it when he withdrew. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Eddie echoed, stepping back. He watched her get in the car and backed out of the driveway. Rey and Edge had already left. With a heaviness in his chest, he walked back inside the condo, already dreading the storm that would be unleashed once that door was closed.

Chris shut the front door and locked it. He wrapped an arm around his lover’s shoulder lightly, steering them both to the living room. “It was nice seeing everyone, we should do it again sometimes,” he quipped.

“Y-You’re not angry?”

“No, it was an accident, right?”

“Of course it was!” Eddie replied hotly. Did Benoit really think he would do something like that on purpose?

“Then I have no reason to be angry with you.”

He started, staring slack-jawed at the Canadian. _‘What?!’_ This was too much, he was so used to Chris blaming him for everything, for going behind Chris’ back. This seemingly calm mood made him dizzy.

“Help me clean up?” Chris asked, about to head to the kitchen as he flashed a questioning glance to the shorter man.

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie mumbled, picking up the dirty dishes and moving them to the sink.

“I’ll do that. Why don’t you wash the table and sweep?” Chris interjected.

“Oh. Did I not do a good job with them last time?” Eddie murmured meekly, feeling guilty for not meeting Benoit’s expectations _again._

“No, you did a wonderful job. You’ve worked so hard lately, you should take it easy,” Chris clarified patiently, pushing the latino towards the dining table.

Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if this turned out to be a dream. Chris _cared_ about him? He shook his head to clear the befuddled thoughts and began cleaning the wood.

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Hours after the sun set for the night, Eddie was still convinced he was daydreaming. Benoit hadn’t yelled at him or slapped him once today. He gradually relaxed as the clock ticked on by, letting his guard down slowly. His lover remained cheerful and affectionate, smothering him with hugs and kisses. He’d soon found himself laughing to the man’s lame puns and impersonations. It had been one of those rare peaceful days and he wished it could last forever.

Chris excused himself to the bathroom to relieve himself, and he stood up, giving the smaller wrestler a playful smack.

Eddie purred contently and settled in the couch, watching the news. His phone began ringing in a pocket of his sweatpants. He took it out, recognizing the caller ID. “Hola, cómo estás?” he greeted.

“Hello to you too, goofball.”

“Hi, Lita,” Eddie smiled at the red-haired brunette laughing in the background. “Did you make it alright?”

“Yeah, about damn time. The traffic from Atlanta to Ohio sucked ass.”

“Duh,” he snorted. It was no secret the the highway was complete hell up north.

“How has Chris been? He’s not grumpy, is he?”

“No, not at all. He’s been in a really good mood,” Eddie answered honestly, biting on his fingernails as the news brought up the story of a kid stealing a hot air balloon.

“That’s a relief then.”

He agreed silently. “What hotel did you check in?”

“Holiday Inn. It’s shitty,” Lita whined.

Eddie barked out a laugh.

“It’s not that funny!”

“Lo sientos, but you have the worst luck, chica,” he coughed, stifling another bout of giggles.

“Fuck you too, Guerrero.”

He couldn’t hold back the peals anymore and he almost passed out from the lack of oxygen from laughing so hard.

“Har de har. I gotta go.”

“O-Okay,” Eddie rasped, hanging up. He wiped the tears away and tried to catch his breath.

“Something funny?” Chris chirped, returning to the living room.

“Just Lita. She has to stay at Holiday Inn.”

“Hm. You’re awfully chummy with her.”

“Well, she is a good friend,” Eddie yawned, missing the darkening in Chris’ voice, blissfully unaware that the Canadian’s mood had taken a swing for the worse.

“I’ve been thinking...you and her shared an ‘accidental’ kiss, right? If it was an accident, then why would you bunk with her?”

Eddie tilted his head, not understanding the question. “That doesn’t even make sense, cariño. Are you okay --” he turned around to see his lover only to earn a punch in the eye. He yelped and fell on the floor, feet up on the couch as the back of his head slammed against the carpet. His vision swam and he could feel his left eye starting to swell up.

Chris stalked around the furniture, letting the latino scrambled blindly away from him. “I should have seen this coming. You were never the type to stay faithful,” he growled.

Eddie flinched at the words and plastered himself against the wall as his breathing turned ragged.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

He watched his partner head upstairs with frightened eyes, legs shaking and adrenaline pumping through his system. He suddenly couldn’t take it anymore, he didn’t want to go through another beating. Before he could think about what he was doing, he made a beeline for it and ran out of the front door.

He was barefoot and even though it was late August, the night was slightly chilly. Thankfully, it was late enough that not very many people were out. Those that were only stared at him with mild interest as he raced down the streets, ignoring the blistering pain as he stepped on sharp rocks scattered over the sidewalk. This was irrational, but he couldn’t go back. He didn’t have the energy to take on more bruises.

He didn’t know how long he’d been running, but once he reached an empty gray house that was for sale, he collapsed on the freshly-paved driveway, a cheek on the cool gravel as he panted harshly. _‘I should be safe now,’_ he thought faintly, curling up to draw warmth into his chilled skin.

  
He was about to drift off into sleep when the black Ford truck pulled up by the curb, the headlight shining on him ominously.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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* * *

 


	23. An Eye for Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It only takes one spark,  
> for two to fall apart."  
> \- Let the Sparks Fly by Thousand Foot Krutch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have uploaded this chapter sooner but I spent all day trying to fix my car's radio and I hate typing with a burning passion.

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_August 29, 2004_

 

 

 

 

__

Eddie dropped his work bag on the bench once he’d arrived in the locker room. He was grateful that all he had to do today was a segment and then he can leave. He went to the sink and began splashing water on his face, looking up in the mirror. He grimaced at the dark black eye and cursed softly. While he can cover the rest of the bruises at work with his pants and the company’s shirt, he would need makeup to hide this. He pushed aside his humiliation and left the room, walking down the hall to the women’s. He paused outside the door, shuffling his feet. He wished Lita worked on SmackDown so he could ask her help. She was the only one he could go to without feeling ashamed. He didn’t have a choice this time. “Dawn?” he called out quietly, haltingly.

After a moment of silence, he started to back away, thinking she hadn’t come yet, but then he saw the familiar sweep of the dark wavy hair.

“Eddie? Is that you?” Dawn murmured, her voice soft and velvet as her caramel gaze flickered over the latino’s figure. The wrestler rarely, if ever, paid a visit or texted her, instead avoiding her whenever they crossed paths at work. She didn’t mind. She was new to the group, a relatively young rookie among friends who’d known each other for years long before she even laced up her wrestling boots. Lita had invited her, and everyone warmed up to her quickly, but she was aware that she was still a newcomer. “Are you looking for Amy?” she questioned, noticing the way Eddie was restlessly tittering on the edge of staying or leaving, as if torn between the decision.

Eddie shook his head, lowering his eyes to shield himself from the piercing stare. He wasn’t used to being analyzed. Lita had always looked at him with a fond softness, but Dawn appeared to see right through the wall he’d built up. It wasn’t an entirely pleasant sensation and it left him feeling exposed. “No. I, um, I need your help,” he mumbled. He lift his head shyly and turned his face to reveal the purple bruise splotched around his left eye.

Dawn let out a soundless gasp, covering her mouth with a shaky hand. “Who did that to you?”

The question was chillingly similar to Adam’s a few nights ago and Eddie pressed his lips together, refusing to answer.

Dawn took the hint, dropping her arm down as she regained her composure. “I should have something to cover it, if that’s what you need,” she offered.

Enormous relief almost overwhelmed Eddie and he gave a grateful nod. “Gracias,” he whispered sincerely, following the tanned diva to the dressing room.

“We’re both pretty early, so we got some time before the other women show up,” Dawn quipped, pulling a chair out in front of a large mirror.

Eddie sat down without a word, folding his hands together in his lap nervously. A thin sheet of sweat shone on his body underneath the clothes as his anxiety bubbled up. He hoped Dawn can be fast so he could retreat back to the safety of the men’s locker room.

Dawn dumped a purse filled with eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliners, foundation, cover-up, blush, and concealer. “Let’s see what I have…” she muttered, rummaging through her supplies. She took out a few things and placed them on the table. “I need to clean your face first,” she spoke up, taking a dry washcloth out of her other bag, wetting it with warm water first. She gingerly dabbed the skin with the rag, breathing out an apology when he grimaced at the pressure.

Once she was satisfied she had thoroughly washed the area around the eye, she wringed the cloth and soaked it with cold water to rinse the skin again. “There we go,” she cooed, pleased that the preparations were finished. “Now we can get started.”

Eddie watched her pick up a small bottle and open it, dipping a cotton swab. His hands clenched the arm rest when Dawn began applying the cream to the bruise, wincing a little when she had to push down. A few agonizing minutes passed until the concealer was completely blended in.

Dawn rubbed the inside of her wrist against her forehead to soothe away an itch. “Almost done,” she reassured the latino, grabbing a container of foundation. “We just have to cover up some more. By the time I’m done, no one will be none the wiser.” She started with the lotion version, making sure it was dispersed along the skin surrounding the eye, before she grabbed the powder.

Each time Dawn’s fingers came near the swollen flesh, Eddie hissed in through his teeth, nails scratching the cushion of the chair. It wasn’t necessarily painful so much that it was uncomfortable. He kept praying she would be finished soon, holding his breath when she touched the area again as she brushed the eyeshadow over the lid.

Dawn backed off, wiping the foundation and powder off on her jeans, leaving pale brown stains in the wake. “Ta da!” she announced happily, proud of her work. “Look in the mirror and see for yourself.” She moved away slightly from the cheval glass.

Eddie stared at his reflection, impressed by how well the makeup covered the bruise, the dark purpleness was now almost faded and he looked normal. “Gracias, Dawn. I appreciate it,” he gasped, relieved that he didn’t have to cover up with another half-assed excuse again. He was already in trouble with the managers and road agents, often coming in late and his recent wrestling skills now stiff and delayed due to his hidden injuries.

Dawn grinned toothily, pleased that she could have been of some help. “Always at your service, sir,” she teased.

Eddie snorted, a smile breaking loose at the diva’s cheesy jokes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now off you go,” she shooed, lightly pushing her friend out of the chair. “Get out before the other girls see you.”

Eddie quickly darted out of the locker room, shooting a grateful glance over his shoulder as he left.

Dawn smirked and whirled around, cleaning up the mess she made in her hurried attempt to conceal that nasty shiner. A quiet voice in the back of her head muttered something was suspicious of the way the wrestler refused to answer how he got the bruise, but she pushed the voice aside. It wasn’t her business. She wasn’t about to get involved in whatever problem Eddie had gotten himself into, knowing her interference wouldn’t be welcomed.

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Eddie had already switched into his tights and a plain black shirt, having long since mastered changing clothes before anyone could see the discolored contusions along his legs and abdomen. He self-consciously pulled the pants up as high as he could, hiding the ugly red scratches along the hips where Chris had grabbed too tight. He let out a sigh, already dreading the segment. He much rather stay in bed all day where he could be safe and warm under the covers. He straightened his shoulders, preparing himself for a long night, and stepped out of the locker room.

He practically slammed into someone, yelping and stumbling off with an apology slipping out in instinct. He snapped up, dismay whitening his skin when he recognized the person he bumped into.

Edge met the distressed brown eyes, scowling at the chicano. He’d hoped he wouldn’t run into the man. Suddenly, an idea formed in his head and he studied his old friend curiously. It could help his case. “You’re coming with me,” he said, snatching a slim wrist and tugging his co-worker to the west wing of the building.

Eddie automatically planted his heels in the tiles, yanking his arm away to no avail. “Wh-What?” He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t describe the apprehension forming a lump in his throat, but he didn’t want to go anywhere with the lean Canadian. Adam gave him a bad vibe and he wasn’t about to ignore his gut feeling.

“You need help, like serious help. I’m taking you to McMahon. You need to go back to rehab or something,” Edge clarified, forcibly dragging the shorter wrestler down the hallway.

Eddie’s heart froze at that, his breaths stopping as all his self-control fluttered to the ground. “No! Please listen, you’re overreacting --”

Edge cut the latino off with a hard tug, drawing a pained groan. “I know what I saw. It’s not a misunderstanding,” he growled.

Out of sheer desperation, Eddie threw a punch, his fist colliding into the fleshy part of Adam’s cheek. A pang of regret drilled through him, right to his bones. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, but he had to protect Chris -- to save what remained of their relationship.

Edge’s head rang with the impact and he stared coldly at the terrified man who was struggling in his grip, pleading with him to let go. “Really? Have you stoop that low?”

The rumbling words made Eddie flinch, the weight on his shoulders growing considerably heavier. “Por favor, I’m sorry, but let me go, please. Don’t get the bosses involved, I don’t want to be fired,” he begged.

“Well, that’s what you need. You need a break to get your head fixed,” Edge barked brusquely. He grasped a handful of the cottony material of Eddie’s shirt. “I’m trying to help you, idiot.”

Eddie sucked in a breath, sweat dampening his skin as he broke out in goosebumps and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end while fear overtook him. He saw now that there was no chance of changing Copeland’s mind. He closed his eyes, ignoring the sting of tears welling up. “If you really want to help, then you’d let me go,” he tried one more time, despair sweeping over him when the hold on his wrist tightened.

“Why do you keep pushing us away? Are you honestly that blind --”

“I like it!”

Edge paused in his lecture, his gaze widening in disbelief at the interruption. “E-Excuse me?” he sputtered.

“I like it, okay?” Eddie repeated, gritting his teeth and his face glowing scarlet red all the way to the tips of his ears. “I like it when he’s rough with me.”

“You sick son of a bitch,” Edge spat, shoving the latino away in disgust.

Eddie bit on his lip, lowering his eyes. He didn’t want to go down this road, but if he had to lie like this to keep Adam off of his tracks, then so be it. His choices were limited.

“Do me a favor and lose my number. I don’t want to see your face ever again. You’re really full of yourself, having me and your friends worried to _death_ about you while you get off on pain,” Edge hissed, seething with anger and revulsion.

Eddie winced at the scathing tone, taking a step back. “I-I understand. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the weight increasing infinitesimally. He watched Adam turn around, the back facing him.

“One more thing.”

Eddie frowned, the lines on his forehead crinkling in confusion. “What?”

He didn’t see the vicious slap coming, the overturned palm ricocheting off of his face. He choked back a cry, recoiling away from the blond.

“Don’t you ever come near me again. You need help with your twisted fantasies,” Edge snarled, bringing his arm down to his side. He cracked his neck and towered over the stunned wrestler.

“Hold it.”

The deep, gruff voice stopped them both.

Edge looked over to the Undertaker who was breaching towards the two men. “Mark,” he greeted the black trenchcoated legend.

Eddie stood perfectly still, mortified that the Undertaker -- _the Undertaker!_ \-- was a witness to this disgrace. _‘Out of all people, why does he have to show up?’_ he grumbled silently, still blushing.

Mark glanced at the Canadian’s emotionless features and then to Guerrero who wouldn’t meet his eyes. He grunted and moved closer. “I suggest you continue your discussion elsewhere at a more appropriate time when you’re not so...rash,” he told Edge crispily, his coat sliding quietly on the floor behind him.

“No need. I’ve said what I needed to say,” Adam murmured, glaring callously at the withdrawn latino before he made his way down the hall, intent on leaving to the garage.

Eddie swallowed, shifting on his feet in the sudden lull that fell upon the atmosphere. He felt timid in the presence of the man whom he admired so much. The Undertaker was one of the biggest reasons he had chosen to join the World Wrestling Entertainment. He could still recall the very first time he’d spoke to his hero. Calaway had came up to him shortly after the company rehired him when he became sober -- shaking his hand and a clap on the back.

_“I’m real impressed, kid. Not many people can get clean and bounce right back like you. It’s a honor meeting you in person. I hope we can work together someday.”_

The Undertaker had complimented _him._ Said it was a honor to meet _him._

Eddie had flushed and stammered out a “thank you” and went the rest of his day beaming.

He quickly shook himself out of his thoughts when his bashful gaze caught the sleek blackness of Mark’s trademark boots.

“You okay, kid?”

Eddie nodded, raising his brown eyes hesitantly and instantly relieved when Taker’s face was nothing but kindness and concern. He was well aware that the veteran was what...one would call a guardian angel over the younger wrestlers on both SmackDown and RAW, but he never dreamt he would get help from the big man. “Si. Thanks. Sorry you had to see that,” he fumbled sheepishly, his words low and shameful as the humiliation rushed back in a warm wave.

Mark’s expression softened and he gently clasped a shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. Disagreements happen. Although,” he paused with a frown, “last I checked, you and Copeland were on good terms.”

Eddie forced a smile and nonchalantly shrugged. “We happened to butt heads over something silly. No biggie, ese. It’ll blow over soon I’m sure,” he admitted. He wasn’t being completely false, but there were certain truths he won’t tell despite the genuine gratitude he felt towards the Undertaker. There was also a conflict of sadness and emptiness warring inside him from the incident. Adam was a good friend, and there was this unimaginable grief tearing a hole in his chest at the profound loss. _‘It’s all my fault,’_ he thought bitterly; he should have been more careful when he was changing clothes that night. Had he done it faster or at least had the door locked, then perhaps Edge wouldn’t have seen the bruises.

Mark didn’t comment on the breezy answer, letting his arm fall down. “How long are you here tonight?” he changed the subject, not missing the appreciative glance thrown in his direction.

“Just a segment with Teddy and Kurt. After that, um…” Eddie faltered, realizing that he didn’t have his car with him. He hadn’t told anyone that he didn’t drive to work, or anywhere for that matter. _‘More like I’m not allowed to.’_

“Chris is picking you up afterwards, right?”

Eddie fell silent, gaping at Taker in shock. “H-How did you know?”

Mark gave a reproachful look to the smaller man and pushed his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. “I may be a lot of things, kid, but blind and stupid ain’t either of them. I noticed. Every week for the last six months, Chris has driven you to and from work. Plus, for quite some time now, you’ve shown up completely covered in sweaters and pants no matter what weather it is. I know you have some secrets to hide, especially from the doctors considering you don’t stop by the clinic anymore. You also refrained from changing in front of others, which is something new. You got a nasty bruise right there too,” he murmured, gesturing at the blemish below Guerrero’s brow.

Eddie’s eyes widened, flabbergasted at how observant the legendary man was. He could have sworn he’d been discreet at work, making sure no one saw the turbulent nature of his life outside of the company. He backed away from the Undertaker, unsure of how to gauge Calaway’s emotions. The face was neutral as always. “Excuse me?” He had to know how much the older wrestler had found out without revealing himself.

“I know because I’ve been through it before.”

The calm words stole away any indignation or protests that might have been building up and he could only stare at his idol. “Huh?” he said dumbly.

“I can see the signs. Takes one to know one,” Mark explained patiently.

“Then..why haven’t you said anything before? You could’ve went to the bosses.”

“Because I understand, kid. I understand what it’s like to be in love and afraid, to be trapped no matter where you go even if you’re alone,” he continued, his gaze becoming faraway and distant as his mind wandered over to the past. “His name was James.”

Eddie started at that, growing uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear Taker’s life story. He didn’t feel worthy enough. _‘I suppose it’s better than a lecture.’_

“It’d happened almost twenty years ago, before I was hired by E.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mark shook his head, dipping his hat forward to cover his eyes. “No need to apologize. Point is I’ve been there. You can always come to me for advice.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched shut, recognizing the unspoken words. “I’m fine, thank you,” he muttered flatly, about to head off to the curtains when Calaway pulled on the back of his shirt.

“Don’t get me wrong. I can help you with the bruises, so you don’t have to go to one of the divas,” Mark persisted, clearing up his meaning so that the latino wouldn’t avoid him.

Eddie looked up, seeing the hidden wisdom lurking beneath the gaze. His guard dropped slightly. “Ah, gracias,” he mumbled meekly, feeling guilty at how short he was with Taker.

“Believe me, I know what it’s like having to deal with lectures from your friends,” Mark joked, hoping to light up his co-worker’s mood. _‘Even if they’re right,’_ he added mentally, but didn't voice it. He sensed the younger man wasn't ready for that sort of talk, still deaf to the warnings. He would have to tread carefully while he gave Eddie a gentle push to the right direction.

“Guerrero, you’re on in five! Get your ass up here!” one of the stage crew shout from the ramp.

Eddie cursed under his breath. “Sorry. I’ll talk to you later?” he asked, realizing that he was actually hoping to finish this conversation.

Mark nodded faintly. “Of course, I’ll be in the parking lot. See you later.”

A genuine smile split across Eddie’s face and he raced to the entrance, the dreadful feeling he’d had all day vanishing even if only for a hour.

He may actually had someone he can trust.

**  
  
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* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Mark dragged a cigarette, puffing out the last smoke before dropping the dead roll on the ground and stomping out the dying flames. He was in his regular street clothes, having changed in the locker room not long after Eddie left for the segment. He pulled his hair up in a bun and tucked the collar of his jacket up, hearing soft footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Eddie modestly coming up to him. “How was your promo?” he questioned amiably, noting the duffle bag slung diagonally over one shoulder and the towel in one hand.

“Decent,” Eddie replied, wiping the dark green rag over his face to remove the sweat. He froze, Spanish obscenities pouring out when he realized his mistake too late. “Shit! Is it off -- the makeup?” he pestered Taker frantically.

Mark peered at the black eye, almost wincing at the damage. The concealer and the eyeshadow, however, remained intact, only smeared. “Still there. Remind me to teach you how to apply all that next time so you can do it yourself from now on,” he murmured, brushing a thumb lightly to fix the mess. “You can't tell the difference at the moment, don’t worry.”

Eddie let out a sigh of relief, “Oh, Dios.” He took out his cell phone, checking the new text message when it went off with a notification. “Chris will be here in about ten to fifteen minutes,” he added. He was surprised at the disappointment that rose up. He found himself wishing for more time to talk to Taker. They both sat down on the curb, his bag slumping to the ground. 

“He lets you have your own phone?”

Eddie met the quizzical glance. “Well, he needs to keep track of me,” he muttered. “James didn’t?”

Taker smiled wryly. “Cell phones weren’t exactly common in the ‘80s.”

Eddie felt unbelievably stupid and wanted to crawl under a hole where he could hide from this embarrassment. “D-Don’t mind me,” he coughed awkwardly.

“Don’t beat yourself up, kid. Besides, I doubt James would have. He...was controlling. Extremely so. It wasn’t a good point in my life back then,” Mark drawled quietly, buttoning up the plaid shirt underneath his coat. “How bad is it with Chris?”

Eddie blinked at the question. He opened his mouth, about to say that everything was actually wonderful. Then he remembered the violent beating that occurred a few days ago, remembered the pain that still echoed throughout his sore body even now.

_// “Try running away next time! Just fucking try it!!”_

__

_Eddie writhed on the ground as Benoit screamed at him, wailing when a shoe promptly stomped on his groin._

__

_“You’re nothing more than a goddamn cheating whore and a coward!” //_

Eddie shuddered at the memory, zipping up his jacket tighter around the neck. “It’s...it’s bad,” he answered after a long moment, his voice cracking.

To his astonishment, the Taker slung an arm over his shoulder and hunched him close to the larger man.

“I understand, kid.”

The raspy words eased up the horrible burden sitting on him just a little -- just enough for him to breathe comfortably.

Eddie wiggled out of the warm embrace when he spot the familiar Ford truck pulling in the garage towards them. “He’s here. I better go. Thanks again,” he exhaled, standing up on his feet to trudge to the black vehicle, only stopping when he saw Mark reaching out for him.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, so I’ll say it just once. The longer you stay with him, the harder it will be for you to leave. You need to keep that in mind,” Mark cautioned.

Eddie held the concerned gaze for a brief minute before shaking his head stubbornly. “I don’t want to leave Chris. I still love him.”

The Undertaker only looked at him somberly.

 

 

**  
  
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* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris watched his lover climbed in the passenger side, his eyes lingering on Calaway standing a little ways off. “What did Mark want with you?”

Eddie stiffened at the inquiry. “Ah, he wanted to talk to me about possibly  working at a pay-per-view with him later this year or maybe next,” he rambled, putting the seat belt on.

Chris hummed curiously, moving the gear into reverse and backing up. “Why would he want to work with someone like _you?”_ he laughed, turning the truck around to leave to the exit. “Anyways, how was the segment?”

“It was okay. Same old, same old,” Eddie gave his standard answer, staring out of the window as they drove out of the garage, ignoring the subtle insult his partner jabbed at him. He frowned when Chris merged onto a different interstate than the route they usually take. “Isn’t the condo in the other direction..?” he interjected.

“I booked us a hotel closer to the WWE’s location for next week.”

“The condo isn’t that far from the city.”

Chris tapped the steering wheel impatiently at the persistent questions. “True, but the neighbors are getting nosy again and I don’t feel like going another round with the police thanks to your loud mouth,” he muttered harshly.

Eddie flinched, sinking in his seat. “Lo sientos,” he whispered softly. Staying in a hotel, however, meant there wouldn't be any beatings, for a while at least. His fingers gripped the cushion tightly. Even so, that didn’t mean any solace ---

A hand touched his knee, searing him with the contact, while the rest of his body went cold.

“I don’t mean to be snappish with you,” Chris apologized, his gaze still on the busy road as he sped past several cars in the fast lane. “It’s been a stressful couple days. I hope I can make it up to you tonight.”

Eddie didn’t miss the huskiness under his friend’s words nor the hand that crept further up his thigh. He pushed it off, squeezing his legs together. “Not right now, cariño,” he mumbled. “You’re driving.”

Chris scoffed and returned his hand to the wheel. “Prude,” he complained.

_‘I’m either a puta or an old maid. Which one am I, Chris?’_ Eddie thought sourly. He shifted in his seat, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath. He was already fearful of the moment they would arrive at the hotel. _‘If it isn’t a beating, it's always the other thing.’_

He tipped his head back, a rock stuck in his throat. He wished he could still drink just so he could get loaded and not remember what will happen tonight.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The moment they walked in through the door of their hotel room, Eddie immediately went to one of the chairs. _'Thank Dios it's not a singles this time.'_  He was beyond relieved to see the two queen-sized beds, knowing he wouldn't have to sleep with Benoit tonight. He kicked off his sneakers and plopping in the soft cushion with an _"oomph"_

 

"I hope you're not going to fall asleep on me."

 

"Why not? I'm tired, ese. It's been a long day," Eddie yawned, stretching out comfortably. His peaceful mood disappeared when he was wrenched off the chair, his arm nearly jerking out of its socket in the process. "Ow! Stop it, Chris! You're hurting me," he protested. He tripped over his stumbling feet as Benoit led him to one of the beds, whimpering when he was pushed down on the mattress, the Canadian pinning his shoulders as he thrashed. A fissure of cold terror seeped into his skin, leaving him shivering and staring numbly at Benoit when he felt warm fingers tickling their way under his shirt as the bigger man settled in between his quivering legs.

 

"I want to make up for hurting you," Chris murmured, his gaze shuttering over the lithe body. "You make me feel good, now it's my turn."

 

 _'But I don't want to feel good!'_  Eddie screamed in his head, the subtle shudders turning into full on trembles under the scrutiny. Once, there used to be a time when that look gave him butterflies. Now, it just left him edgy and distrustful. He felt cold all the way to his very core despite the cozy warmth of the room. He wished he had the courage to fight Benoit off and leave, but the overwhelming fear of what his friend will do if he tried running away again put an abrupt halt to any plans of doing just that. The movement of hands pulling his jeans off made him shut down and he focused on the candle flickering at the tableside next to the bed, turning his face as if it was easier to pretend this wasn't happening if he wasn't watching Chris. He tried to force his body to relax, to prepare for what was coming.  _'If you stiffen up, it'll hurt more,'_  he reminded himself.

 

In spite of his best efforts, the tremors became worse when his briefs were removed and his thighs being forced apart until he was fully on display. His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes, tears leaking out of the corners and trickling down to his ears. The burn of a digit, barely slick enough with spit, scissoring into his ass caused him to hiss out, his toes curling when Benoit hit the prostate and sent an unwanted jolt of pleasure to his hardening cock. He mewled, shame reeking off of him as his hips buckled and pushed the finger deeper. He didn't want to feel good. He just wanted to sleep, but his body was betraying him - his mind telling him this was pain, while the rest of his brain moaned in exhilaration.  _'Father, please,'_  he pleaded silently to God who refused to listen and save him from this torture.

 

Chris carefully added another finger, feeling the ring of muscles slowly stretching around him. His other hand wrapped around the leaking member, amused when the latino arched off the bed with a strangled cry, the dark chestnut eyes snapping open with wet lashes. His gratification was interrupted by the cell phone ringing in one of the bags. He let out a frustrated groan when he recognized his ring tone, reluctantly slipping the digits out and getting off the bed.

 

Frigid air ghosted over his naked flesh and a muted sob tore out of Eddie's throat when he realized Benoit was across the room, looking for the source of the chirping sound. He rested his head on the pillow, closing his thighs and hugging himself tightly. Was his prayer finally answered? He'll take any respites he can get. He hoped Benoit's arousal had gone away in the wake of the phone, and he felt immensely grateful for whoever called and disrupted the … the ... whatever Chris thought  _this_  was. He preferred dealing with the anger, the screaming, and the pain that came with the beatings rather than what seemed to be a parody of love.

 

He didn't know what it was about sex that made it unbearable, but it left him broken and wrecked. He'd much rather take a knife and stab himself in the stomach than to go through another twisted version of intimacy. Eddie wasn't sure when, but somewhere along the lines, Chris had foregone all pretenses of affections and used him as if he was nothing more than a slab of meat, a hole to fuck.

 

He didn't like it, but he wasn't stupid enough to voice his discomfort. He was already acutely aware of the consequences.

 

_"Just because you're in a relationship, that doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants without your say."_

 

Lita's words to him seemed so long ago, back in a time when Chris respected his consent. A harsh, bitter laugh ripped out and he saw the Canadian flashing him a curious glance, but he kept his stare fixated on the ceiling.

 

Chris was caught off-guard by the bark of laughter from his lover, his eyes swiveling to the smaller man still on the bed. Guerrero didn't meet his gaze and he could see the shivers shaking through the lean frame. He frowned, looking at Eddie like he was seeing the other wrestler for the first time.  _'When did he get so thin?'_  The latino still had muscles and a good built, but there was a fragile lightness about him. Chris exhaled quietly, shaking his head disapprovingly. He would have to scold his cheri about not eating again. He felt a burst of guilt when he saw the lines of exhaustion on the handsome face. _'Maybe I'll let him go to bed. He probably needs the sleep.'_  He turned his attention back to his phone when it gave another annoying chirp, demanding him to answer the call. His eyebrows perked up at the ID lighting up the screen. "Hey. I wasn't expecting to hear from you," he greeted, the surprise showing in his tone.

 

"I'm going to make this short. Delete my number," Adam spoke tersely.

 

"What? Why, what's wrong?"

 

"What you and your boyfriend do in the bedroom is none of my business, but if he doesn't hide the bruises,  _certain_  people might be concerned and get the wrong idea."

 

Chris gaped for a moment, a bolt of fury spearing through his chest when he glared at Eddie who had yet to look away from the damn ceiling. "Bruises?" he echoed, his voice strangely calm.

 

"If you're going to leave marks on him, then be decent and tell him to cover up," Adam spat and hung up.

 

Chris winced at the loud click and shut his phone, tossing back in the bag. He massaged his temples, the beginning of a migraine starting to hit him. He smashed his teeth together and stalked to the foot of the mattress.

 

Eddie jerked when his ankle was grabbed and yanked, his legs falling open. He snapped out of his daze, panic seizing him around the throat at the resolute expression. Well, he got his wish. The arousal was definitely gone, but he didn't feel better. "C-Chris?" he rasped, hating how shaky he sounded.

 

"I had a very interesting conversation with Copeland. About your bruises," Chris growled.

 

Eddie's face paled and he suppressed a flinch, suddenly wanting to hide his exposed body under the sheets. He didn't like being this vulnerable, this naked before Benoit and the mounting rage he can sense was slowly building up. "I-I," he stammered, anxiety squeezing him and stealing the rest of his sentence when Benoit loomed over him, a hand gripping the sharp rise of his hip bone.

 

"When were you going to tell me that someone, that Adam saw you?"

 

The hissed statement made him jump with a soft whine. He swallowed, licking his chapped lips while he scrambled for words that would cool the flames. "I-It was an accident," he began, his tongue feeling too thick as he struggled to talk. "He bust in the room a-and saw. He was going to t-take me to McMahon and I had to stop him. I told him that I like it rough."

 

Chris narrowed his eyes, blunt nails breaking into the yielding flesh of the hips. "You mean to tell me that Vince almost got involved because of _your_  carelessness?" he seethed, moving in closer until his nose was inches from Eddie's.

 

Eddie shrank back into the mattress, away from the wrath. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't think he would go that far," he stuttered.

 

Chris snorted, grasping the flaccid cock and watching his lover looked down at his hand and then at his face in alarm. "So, you like it rough?"

 

Eddie's heart plummeted when the Canadian gave a sharp tug, dismay making him nauseous.  _'No, no, no. Please no.'_  Benoit couldn't possibly be this cruel. He gasped, clawing at the hand painfully twisting the most sensitive part of him. "Ch-Chris," he started, recoiling when Benoit clasped a sweaty palm over his mouth. The caresses resumed, becoming more and more painful.  _'It isn't so bad, it could be worse,'_  he tried to convince himself, but he couldn't ignore the blistering agony that scorched his nerves after each stroke. He cried and screamed under the hand as he was brought to completion, coming on his shirt.

 

"Did you lie to Adam like you lie to me and everyone else?" Chris murmured, cleaning the mess off of his fingers with one eye on Eddie.

 

Eddie didn't reply, shaking as his lower body burned from the inflamed friction that was a result of the dry rubbing, the head of his cock sore and chafed. He choked on a sob, looking away from Benoit when fresh tears cascaded down his cheeks.

 

"I thought so."

 

He sniffled and wiped the cum off of his shirt, feeling degraded and tainted. He fumbled for his boxers, freezing when he saw them in Benoit's clutch.

 

"I trust you won't keep secrets from me anymore?"

 

Eddie gave a slow nod, flinching violently at the impact of the boxers being tossed into his lap. He bit on his lip and put the undergarments on, a false sense of safety encompassing him now that he had some clothes on. He watched Benoit undress to the shorts and climb into the other bed. Misery pressed down on his shoulders and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

 

Chris looked over, about to turn off the light. "Have something to say?" he quipped.

 

"D-Do you still love me?"

 

He blinked at the awkward question. "What the hell are you moaning on about?"

 

Eddie dipped his chin, embarrassed, but he needed to know. He never felt so insecure and small before, but what Benoit just did confused him. The sex, he can understand even if he wasn't fond of it. He at least understood Chris had urges that needed to be taken care of. But this, what had just happened, was so completely unexpected. The Canadian never tried to hurt him this way, not  _sexually,_  never on purpose. Benoit had always tried to refrain, always apologized after getting out of hand. It didn't happen this time, and Eddie was unsettled by the way his lover punished him so ruthlessly. "Um, you keep hurting me ... I-I thought that maybe you hate me because I don't..like when you do this, cariño," he mumbled, hesitantly raising his gaze.

 

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Stop being a sissy and go to sleep. I don't have the energy for your stupid questions!"

 

Eddie went rigid when the room became shrouded in darkness after Benoit pulled the switch. A confusing mixture of despair, shock, and resignation came over him and he laid down, curling in a fetal position.

 

Chris snuggled underneath the blankets, baffled by the child-like question from his best friend. _'Of course I love you, you idiot. Why would you even ask that?'_  he thought drowsily and closed his eyes as the last bits of his anger faded away, not realizing that a couple feet from his bed, Eddie was quietly crying into a pillow.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how I was going to write the Undertaker's character as well as his introduction to this story. If he's too awkward or OOC, please let me know so I can fix him! Thank you c: I'm open to any suggestions!


	24. The Merciless Grip of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Eddie ever truly open up, or will he continued down this road with Chris?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You fall through the trees,  
> and you pray with your knees on the ground  
> for the things that you need  
> with your lust and greed weighing down.  
> And you weaken your love  
> and you hold it above your head."  
> \- Willow Tree March by The Paper Kites

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

Eddie slept fitfully throughout the night, too wounded up from what Benoit had done to him earlier. So, when the first rays of the sun began filtering in the room, he was already awake. The sheets were entangled around his limbs and he fought to get out of the bed, his bare feet touching the cool carpet. He shivered and rummaged through his bag, grabbing a light gray sweater to put on. He glanced at the pamphlet on the tableside next to the long-burnt out candle. There was a free breakfast buffet today in the lobby. His stomach grumbled about the lack of food and he slipped into sweatpants and sneakers, fixing his hair and smoothing out the spikes that stuck out as if he’d been electrocuted. He hadn’t eaten a solid meal for a couple days now and he couldn’t fast again, or else there was a chance he would pass out and end up at a hospital. He casted a fleeting look at the sleeping Canadian, unsure if he should wake up his lover or not. After a moment of indecision, he gently shook Benoit’s shoulders, holding his breath and hoping the man won’t hit him. The last time he’d went out without Chris’ prior approval, he’d earned welts on his ass. He didn’t wish to repeat that.

Chris snarled and opened his eyes, sending an icy glare to the latino. “What do you want?” he nearly spat, irritated at being woken up so early.

Eddie receded away from Benoit, the barb in his lover’s voice stinging him. His own gaze slid to the side, unable to meet the glower. “S-Sorry, cariño. I just want to tell you I’m getting breakfast downstairs,” he mumbled, his hands curling into fists to bottle up his anxiety before he had another attack.

“Okay, whatever. Just go away already, God.”

He faltered. He knew he should obey and get out, but he didn’t want to leave on bad terms. Chances are, when he returned, Benoit would most likely not be in a good mood. He wanted to soothe his friend’s ruffled feathers. “Want me to bring you anything when I come back?” he asked lightly.

“No. Will you let me sleep for fuck’s sake?!”

Eddie flinched at the shout, dodging a flying arm. He decided it was a good idea to make himself scarce, closing the door quietly behind him. He let out a heavy sigh, releasing all the tension that had knotted inside him during the exchange. He gave himself a shake, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Is that you, Guerrero?”

He jumped at the sound of his name, his eyes fastening on the familiar figure. “Mark?”

Calaway offered a small smile at the younger wrestler. “I didn’t think you would be staying here,” he murmured, walking towards his co-worker. He paused when he noticed the odd stiffness of Eddie’s posture. “You okay, kid?”

Eddie’s face turned bright crimson and he quickly looked away, the oppressive heat flushing through his skin. He was still sore from last night, feeling uncomfortably raw. He feared the Undertaker would pick up on his defiled state. “I’m fine,” he replied curtly, brushing past the bigger man on his way to the lobby.

Mark opened his mouth, about to call after Guerrero again, but then he stopped himself. For whatever reason, the latino seemed too embarrassed to talk to him. While he was worried, he knew better than to nose around, all too aware of the need to hide even from well meaning intentions. If he wished for Eddie to open up to him so he can help, then there was only one thing he could do. Mind made up, he went to the elevators.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie had his plate partially full with a cheese omelet, crepes, toast, and bacon. Despite the growing hunger, the very smell of food made him nauseous. He grabbed a small cup of water and sat down on an empty table near the doors away from the large groups of people who had arrived before him. The atmosphere was cheerful and sunny, but he felt alone and isolated, like he was trapped on an island in the middle of a storm. He stared at his plate, moving his breakfast around with a fork in idled boredom. He knew he had to eat, but he doubt he could stomach it right now. A shadow fell upon him and he froze when he realized Calaway was sitting in front of him. He blushed again, words getting stuck in his throat as he tried to protest.

“Is it okay with you if I ate here?”

_‘No!’_ Eddie let out a begrudging smile and nodded. “Si,” he remarked brightly, hating how fake he sounded just then.

Mark blinked at the grating edge to the smaller man’s answer. “Thank you,” he said quietly, scooting his chair to the table.

After several moments of the two wrestlers eating in silence, Taker studied the latino in curiousity. “Chris didn’t join you for breakfast?” he quipped, tilting his head slightly.

Eddie choked on a piece of bacon and pushed his place away. “Ah, no. He wanted to sleep in.”

_‘Looks like you need some sleep too,’_  Mark thought, noting the dark bags under Guerrero’s eyes. “That’s a shame. This place has rather delicious food for a hotel.”

Eddie nodded again, a strained smile tugging at his lips almost painfully. He racked his brain for topics to steer the conversation away from Benoit. It was humiliating enough that the Undertaker knew he was beaten on a regular basis, but if the man were to find out about the other things Chris had done to him… No, Eddie couldn’t risk it. Calaway was already proven to be quite inquisitive and so he would have to speak with care as not to reveal the dirty deeds. He felt horrible for doing this, knowing Taker was an ally, a friend, but he was convinced his idol would scorn him. Beating was one thing, the sex something entirely different -- one he would surely be ridiculed for. “How’s your storyline going?” he blurted out, wincing at his clumsiness. _‘Nice transition, dumbass.’_

__

Mark eyebrows quirked, but he didn’t comment on the awkward change of subjects. “It’s going decent. Randy’s a nice kid, if not a little green,” he responded. “How’s yours?”

Eddie shrugged, still playing with his food and his gaze downcasted. “Not really involved in one. Just messing with Kurt and Luther for now until Creative figures out what to do with me,” he sighed, feeling dejected, like a ‘has been.’ It was only a few months ago that he was at the top of the company and now he was slowly falling down the ladder. He had no one to blame but himself. After all, he was the one letting Chris ---

“It’s starting to affect your work, isn’t it?”

He was startled by the observation, meeting Taker’s eyes. “Que?” he stuttered. _‘How much did he guess..?’_

“You tend to walk with a slight limp. It’s not overly noticeable, but it’s there,” Mark explained, sipping his coffee.

Eddie stiffened, his hands folding together and falling in his lap out of Calaway’s view as he fidgeted. “I guess you could say that,” he coughed, avoiding the other man’s scrutiny again. He knew what limp Taker was referring to, but it wasn’t because of a recent beating. His nails scratched the pants as his shoulders hunched together, his panic peaking to new heights. _‘This is bad, bad, bad, bad.’_

“Are there any other ways in which your partner hurt you?”

He blanched, tremors starting to creep up. “W-What do you mean?” he choked out, staring at his plate more resolutely and hoping to God Calaway wouldn’t guess the deepest, darkest secret he’d tried so hard to keep from everyone.

“The gait doesn’t hinder your wrestling, so it’s not the legs that are the cause of it, otherwise your moves would have been delayed,” Mark murmured thoughtfully, his full attention now on the latino as he moved his food aside, forgotten.

Eddie closed his eyes, despair bleeding into his vessels and clouding his mind as he realized that all his efforts to evade this subject were wasted.

“ _Physical_ trauma isn’t the only thing that would make you walk in such a way,” Mark persisted, watching the younger man flinched and a bottomless pit of sadness tearing a hole inside the center of him when he knew he was right on the mark.

Eddie’s face had gone completely ashen and he was motionless for a brief second before he suddenly stood up and stormed out of the lobby. He marched towards the elevators, jamming a thumb to the ‘up’ button, thoroughly pissed and embarrassed at how Mark managed to dissect the very core of his relationship. _‘Damn him.’_  He rested his head against the opposite wall once he got in, hearing the doors starting to close behind him. “Damn him,” he whispered. His upper back was touched dubiously and he snapped, whirling around with red-hot anger. “Stay away from me!”

Calaway remained calm, undisturbed by the vehemence fire in his co-worker’s eyes. “Eddie..”

“Shut up! What fucking right do you have --” Eddie’s yelling turned high-pitched when Mark came closer. He stumbled back into the wall. “Just because it happened to you doesn’t mean you can just --” his breathing hitched and his hands shook. “Fuck you,” he whimpered, bringing an arm up to cover the tears. _‘Chris is right. I’m a stupid crybaby.’_

Mark gently pulled the other wrestler into a light hug, allowing Guerrero to cry into his chest as the elevator moved up to the destination. Neither men spoke, Calaway simply holding Eddie close while muffled sobs quietly filled  the air.

Eddie withdrew once he heard the chime of the lift reaching the tenth floor, drying his wet cheeks with a sleeve. “Lo sientos,” he sniffed, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact after he’d just broke down.

Mark only grunted. “Don’t be sorry. I know what it’s like. You don’t have to tell me anything, I understand that. Believe me, I do. I get it,” he reassured.

All the nervous energy that had been building up in Eddie had finally scattered, leaving him weak-kneed with pure, utter _relief_ that there might actually be someone who respected his privacy. He bowed his head in gratitude, rubbing a spot behind one ear. “Gracias. I mean that.”

Mark remained quiet, stepping to the side to allow the latino out. He followed the retreating back with a keen gaze. Once Guerrero had turned a corner, he dipped his hat forward and exhaled. It’d been years since he had been personally involved in a friend’s affairs. This would be emotionally draining, but if he could save Eddie from a toxic and volatile relationship, from a sad ending, then it would all be worth it.

He would be damned if he allowed his co-worker to go down the same arduous path that he himself had traveled with James.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie paused in front of the door to the hotel room, preparing himself in case Benoit was still snippish. He straightened up and turned the doorknob, his clammy hand slickening the golden handle. He tip toed inside, looking around warily and spotting his lover looking into a mirror. He gulped and closed the door.

“How was breakfast?”

Eddie played with a scab on the inside of his wrist, the tension returning to his body. Benoit seemed calm, but appearances can be deceiving and he wasn’t dumb enough to assume he wasn’t in trouble.

Chris had taught him well.

“It was good. Calaway ate with me,” he mumbled.

Chris faced his partner, frowning. It was puzzling at how the Undertaker was entering his cheri’s life. From what he’d heard about the legend, Mark was distant -- not exactly the type to chat it up with other wrestlers. “That’s weird. You guys hardly ever talk,” he muttered suspiciously.

Eddie put on a casual attitude, a lopsided smile breaking out. It was easy now for him to fake, to pretend to be nonchalant. It was disconcerting, but as long as it kept him under Benoit’s radar, he would have to keep up the act. “Beats me, ese. I’m just as surprised as you.”

The crooked grin took Chris’ breath away and he was all the more reminded how lucky he was to have someone like Eddie. He moved away from the mirror to prowl closer to the latino, a predatory smirk curving his lips upward.

Eddie’s smile vanished and he shrank away, fear making his eyes widen at the clear lust sparkling behind Benoit’s leer. The memory of last night still too fresh on his mind. “Cariño?” he questioned, crossing his arms in an unconscious attempt to create a barrier between himself and the Canadian.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have hurt you like that,” Chris murmured, brushing a kiss against his lover’s lips.

Eddie clenched his jaw, biting back a whine at the intimate gesture. He wanted to say something to get Benoit to stop. He couldn’t, not even if the man was gentle this time, he simply _couldn’t._ “C-Can we talk?” he spouted out in his hysteria.

Chris drew away, his desire souring slightly at the trembling voice. _‘Leave it to Eddie to ruin the moment.’_

Eddie let out a soft breath, closing his eyes and regathering himself, trying to ignore how the Canadian was still unpleasantly close in his personal space. “I...I think we need a break,” he spoke tentatively.

When there were no words from Benoit, he licked his lips and kept his stare on the dark red carpet. “I don’t mean a break up...I just want some time alone. I think it might be good for us.” The truth was he'd been thinking about some separation for almost a month now, his idea only getting more profound now in the events of this past week. He thought it would be a nice change of pace to stay away from Chris for a while, and that the Canadian would be less uptight and furious by the time the break was over.

Chris scrunched his nose in derision. “What brought this on?” he growled.

“It’s just..you never listen to me. You’re always yelling at me and hitting me and..”

“And what? Hmm?”

Eddie gnawed on the insides of his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what it would be called. It wasn’t rape. He never did actually say no, but at the same time, the way Benoit just used him and tossed him aside like a filthy toy made him miserable. “I just want space,” he finished lamely. He only wished for a good night of sleep, free from nightmares. That wouldn't happen if he stayed with Chris.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, cheri.”

“I-I don’t see any problems. It wouldn’t be a long break,” he stammered helplessly.

“The problem is you can’t be trusted.”

“What? Why?”

“Do you want me to explain chronologically or alphabetically?”

Eddie flinched at the sardonic answer, feeling incredibly small and pathetic. “It’s not like I’m just spreading my legs for everyone,” he muttered, his comment earning him a smarting slap.

“Sorry, but you haven’t done anything to convince me otherwise. Not with what happened with that woman, Rhyno, and then Lita. I don’t even know who else you’ve fucked,” Chris snarled, each finger popping up as he listed the names.

Eddie gaped at Benoit, shame and dismay heavily strapping him down. “But that was --”

“What? An assault? Or an accident? Are you going to weasel out of everything? It’s simple, Eddie. You’ve asked for it.”

He quickly shut up at that, his breaths quickening in his anxiety. “I’ve never asked for it, Chris,” he whispered weakly, “not once.”

Chris overlooked the objection and resumed ruthlessly, singlehandedly dismantling the latino’s fragile confidence and destroying what remained of the self-preservation. “And another thing is I don’t think you’re strong enough to be by yourself.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, not understanding where his friend was going. “I’m sorry, I don’t?”

“You’ve only been clean and sober for almost three years. I’m worried all of your hard work will be for naught since your demons might get the best of you and you’ll relapse.”

He recoiled, stung at how blunt Benoit was being. “Do you really have that little faith in me..?”

“It’s not that, dear. It’s just we gotta consider the worst case scenario. I would feel so bad if you go back to the old days during this hypothetical break. I don’t think you’re ready for that. At least, with me, I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t stray, you know?” Chris purred, selfishly manipulating his lover. It was cruel, but he wasn’t about to let Eddie slip through his fingers.

Eddie’s shoulders slump, misery making his head drop forward. “I guess you’re right,” he mumbled depressively.

Chris relaxed with a smile, knowing he’d got Guerrero dancing in the palm of his hand. He tilted the face up in a mockery of kindness, knuckles running down a cheek to the throat. “Any more silly ideas?” he cooed.

Eddie shook his head, his expression remote and unreadable as Benoit stole another kiss with a possessive zeal, teeth nipping and tugging his lower lip. He could feel the Canadian’s hardening member pressing against his own crotch, but he stayed quiet. He was so far beyond panic, beyond distress, that he was just numbed -- resigned to the fact he wouldn’t ever be successful in talking Chris out of the sex.

 

“I think some love and a bath are in order. It’ll certainly loosen you up, you’re far too tensed, cheri.”

He only stared at Benoit dully, following the other man without a protest to the bed when he was given a light jerk, a finger dipping in the waistband of his sweatpants.

He didn’t struggle this time, didn’t cry out when Chris entered him with barely any preparation in the man’s greedy haste.

_‘Just let him do it. He doesn’t care about you right now. It’s not that painful if you just ignore it.’_

Eddie repeated this thought over and over, staring lazily at the ceiling, his hands limp by his sides and legs splayed obscenely. Eventually, he zoned out in blissful oblivion, not quite unconscious, just lost in his own mind.

Later, he wouldn’t be able to recall what’d happened, his memory forever lost during those moments. He found it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, realizing that it made dealing with the sex easier so he continued fading whenever Chris decided to get intimate with him.

 

  
It wasn’t long before it became effortless to slip away.

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that I'm not trying to romanticize nor glorify abusive relationship and rape/sexual coercion! Please don't think this story is some kind of "kink" because real people do go through these situations and it's not something to be considered erotic. 
> 
> ^-^


	25. Dissociation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pay no mind what other voices say.  
> They don't care about you, like I do, like I do.  
> Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils,  
> See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do."  
> \- Pet by A Perfect Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA - a fellow reader made soundtracks for this fanfic :)) Go check it out if you feel like listening to music when you're bored! 
> 
> Blurred Lines Part One: [[ http://8tracks.com/synystermoxley/blurred-lines ]]  
> Blurred Lines Part Two: [[ http://8tracks.com/synystermoxley/blurred-lines-pt-2 ]]

* * *

* * *

 

 

_September 02, 2004_

 

**  
**

It happened again, of course. Each time was worse than the last, but Eddie kept quiet, going to that safe spot in the back of his mind again where he could escape the pain even if just for a little while. This time, he was curled up in the bathtub, watching the water drip from the spout. He heard muffled noises, but they were far away and faint. Unimportant. He sighed and leaned against the smooth marble, closing his eyes. There was a window in the room, the woods hammered shut to block out the lights. _‘To keep the pain and fear away.’_ Here, he can protect himself. He would be okay as long as he stayed inside.

His eyes were only closed for a few minutes when he felt something. It was light, very light, but it was enough to make him jump. He looked around the bland room again, but it was still empty. The next sensation brought him back with sharp clarity that left him gasping.

He opened his eyes to see Chris leaning over him, his ankles dangling over the Canadian's shoulders as the other man thrust into him. His right cheek was stinging and he realized that was what he felt in his mind. He struggled to take another breath in, his chest painfully tight, as he scrambled to dig his fingers into the flimsy material of the bed. Each onslaught slammed his back onto the mattress, chafing the skin that he was sure would be red later. He whined and twisted uselessly, desperately trying to black out again, but to his terror, he remained alert and sensitive to every movement made by his lover.  He couldn’t even remember what he was doing before, if he had been asleep or just sitting when Benoit ra--took him. He choked on a sob and clawed the bigger wrestler’s abdomen. “Ch-Chris. Please, stop. Por favor.” He pleaded. The blue eyes met his brown eyes, glittering with some dark emotion that he couldn’t name.

Benoit raised a hand and struck the latino across the face again. “Shut up. Just shut up.” he grunted, his hips pivoting erratically.

Eddie froze up from the wetness of blood trickling down one corner of his mouth as he stared dazedly above Benoit’s head. He didn’t have the energy to protest and the thrusts became more brutal, the sting of nails piercing into his hips making him flinch. His jaw fell open, but no words came out - a soundless scream tore out his throat at a particularly unforgiving thrust that made him see white.

Suddenly, there was a dank heat rushing in him and Chris fell on top of him while he laid stiffly on the bed. He swallowed his nausea down, hoping he wouldn’t throw up all over the man.

“You’re not really fun to fuck anymore.”

He bit back a hysterical laugh at the complaint. “Sorry.” He couldn’t help it. He didn’t enjoy the sex, so why would he try to reciprocate the affections? He’d assumed if he just let the Canadian do whatever, then that was enough.

Apparently not.

Chris grumbled and got off the bed, walking to the bathroom to clean up. “You need to start pulling your own weight.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, sitting up and looking around the room, disorientated. It felt like he was in a fog.

He swung his legs over the edges of the mattress, hating the stickiness between his thighs. He frowned when he couldn’t see his clothes. _‘How long have I been naked?’_ he thought, panicky. He glanced towards the bathroom door, hearing the shower running, and licked his lips nervously. It terrified him that he couldn’t remember anything at all. He didn’t even know what day it was, or the time.

He felt like a prisoner trapped in his own home.

Eddie forced himself on his feet, shuffling over to the hallway, leaving the stained bedroom. He grabbed a towel from a closet by the stairs, wrapping it around himself while he went downstairs. It was there he spotted his clothes strewn all over the floor near the couch. He shivered, hating that he couldn’t recall what he had been doing today before he blacked out.

He put the underwear and jeans on, tugging his yellow shirt on. It was only when he was home alone with Chris that he didn’t have to worry about covering the bruises up. He glanced down at his mottled arms, the dark traces of fingerprints around his wrists was almost enough to make him gag.  He wandered around the condo aimlessly, trudging to the kitchen and cleaning up the dining table. He put the dirty dishes in the sink and looked up to stare out of the window, shocked at his reflection. His face was sickly pale and withdrawn with lines under his eyes, giving him a sunken appearance. He gritted his teeth and quickly averted his eyes, not liking what he saw.

Eddie hadn’t been paying attention to his surrounding, so when he turned away from the window, he bumped into a warm body. He went rigid, taking a step back and raising his gaze to meet the seething glare fixated on him. Warning bells rang in his head and he trembled from where he stood petrified on the spot. He didn't even hear Benoit get out of the shower, let alone come in the kitchen. “Ch-Chr --” he didn’t have time to finish saying his lover’s name before a heavy fist pounded into his lower belly, the dishes he had been holding crashing on the ground and shattering. He reeled backwards with a startled cry, clutching his stomach instinctively. It left him defenseless as Benoit gripped him by his hair _(that seemed to be a favorite move)_ and dragged him to the garage door, forcing him to look at the trashcan.

“I fucking told you to put the trash by the curb because today is Trash Day. What is this?!”

Eddie writhed under the hold, tears falling down his cheeks at the yelling. “I’m sorry --” he wailed, thrashing when Benoit picked him up, an arm sweeping him off his feet. He realized the other man was trying to dump him in the trash can. He mewled and squirmed, fear making him frantic. “I’m sorry! Please! I’ll do it next time, I swear!” he screeched.

They both stopped at the loud knocking on the front door.

Eddie yelped when he was abruptly dropped, his ass landing on the floor. He scrambled to stand up shakily, cringing at the hissed growl from Benoit directed towards him. He fixed his clothes and put on a jacket that was draped over the couch on his way to meet the Canadian by the door. To his dismay, there were two police officers standing in front of them.

“How can we help you sirs?” Chris greeted the cops cheerfully with an easy smile, squeezing the latino’s shoulder playfully.

“We got a call from one of your neighbors about some domestic violence. There was some screaming and they reported hearing dishes breaking,” Officer Swartz murmured, peering over the two men to glimpse inside the apartment. “This is the seventh call we’ve received about your place.”

Eddie tensed when the grip on his shoulder tightened, a plastic smirk on his face to avoid suspicion. Inside, he was quaking with fear knowing that Benoit was furious with him. “I dropped a few plates. That was my fault,” he blurted out, earning a stare from Lieutenant Cortes who accompanied Swartz.

“Mind if we check the condo?”

“No, not at all. Come on in,” Chris purred, stepping aside and tugging Eddie with him.

The police came inside, splitting apart to look around both floors. “Pretty strange that someone calls seven times and there’s nothing going on here,” Swartz commented with one eye on both men.

“Yeah. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. We’re a clumsy bunch of people,” Chris joked, holding back his impatience. He wanted the cops gone so he can teach Eddie another lesson, but for now, he’ll have to humor them. “Some folks tend to make assumptions over little things.”

Swartz snorted, scanning the kitchen. “That’s true,” he conceded. He glanced at the latino standing behind Benoit, noticing how the brown eyes slid from his gaze the moment they locked. “Perhaps you should talk with my partner to see if he has any questions,” he murmured.

Chris pursued his lips together slightly, catching on the officer’s hidden agenda. “I will,” he assented, moving away from his lover to go upstairs.

Eddie fidgeted now that he was left alone with Swartz, vulnerability settling on him. He took a faltering step back when the cop walked in a circle around him.

“I have an inkling your friend isn't going to tell the truth. You seem like a honest guy to me. Is there something going on here that we need to know about?” Swartz spoke quietly, his full attention on the smaller man.

Eddie’s mouth went dry and he shook his head, realizing where this was going. “No, sir. Everything is peachy here,” he lied. The police in Georgia weren’t exactly known for their fairness, and he had no doubts that if he were to reveal the truth, both he and Chris will earn a one-way ticket to a hole they would never escape from. “I’ll have a talk with the neighbors so there’s no more further confusions,” he added lightly.

“You best do that,” Swartz drawled. There were footsteps, and he glanced over his shoulder to see his co-worker and Benoit returning to them. He flashed a questioning look at Cortes who merely gave a head shake. He sighed, frustrated that this trip was a waste of time. “Let’s hope we don’t come back, gentlemen,” he muttered, tipping his hat in farewell as he left.

“Good day to you both,” Chris called out to the two cops before he closed the door and locked it.

Eddie stood still, hands shaking by his sides when Benoit turned to face him with a thunderous expression darkening the handsome features.

“What did I tell you about your damn mouth?” Chris spat, ripping his belt out of the loops around the waistband of his jeans and clutching the leather strap in one fist.

Eddie only bowed his head, trembling.

 

 

* * *

 

**  
**

_September 16, 2004_

 

 

Rey walked into the locker room, joy crashing over him when he saw his best friend. “Eddie!” he shouted excitedly, bounding over to the other latino. Concern peaked up when he noticed how much paler Guerrero looked compared to when they’d last seen each other. “You okay, holmes?”

Eddie assented with a nod, yawning and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Benoit had been frisky lately to the point where he barely got any sleep and often woke up sore. He’d kept silent though, having already learned his lesson weeks ago. “Si, just cansado. I’ll be fine,” he replied hoarsely.

Rey’s worry only grew, but he didn’t pester his co-worker. There was nothing to indicate Eddie had been in a fight, except for a faint bruise on a cheek last week. For all he knew, his amigo was telling the truth and just had a rough sleepless night. Yet his gut feeling told him something different. “That’s a bummer. If you’re having trouble falling asleep, I know this herb tea thing that could help. It knocks me right out,” he offered.

Eddie smiled dimly. “Gracias.”

“Oh, by the way, I called you twice last night because I couldn’t find my bible anywhere. Since we have identical bags, I thought you might had it,” Rey piped.

Eddie’s smile faltered and he knit his brows. “You called?” he echoed, trying to remember. His memory had gotten worse over the past few weeks, often blacking out whenever Benoit fucked him. It was easier to just fade away from the situation, but it led to long gaps between certain events. It bothered him slightly, but if letting himself go limp and shutting his mind down made the pain less sharp, then he’d gladly take it. “I don’t recall my phone ringing. Sorry.”

“Weird. Anyways, turned out my bible was in my rental car. Did you want to pray together later? We used to do that all the time; it’d be nice to bring the tradition back,” Rey murmured wistfully.

Eddie blinked and shook his head curtly. “Nah, I’m good. Some other day,” he muttered dryly. He didn’t pray anymore. If there was a God, then that God clearly didn’t give a damn. He was on his own.

Rey was crestfallen at the rejection. This was the very first time Guerrero turned down a spiritual invitation. “Okay,” he sighed, sitting next to his friend on the bench and adjusting his mask. “You got that thing with Big Show and Kurt tonight?” he changed the subject.

Eddie nodded, relieved that Rey didn’t bug him more about his forgetfulness or the prayer. While he liked the emptiness and dulled pain that came with him blacking out, it was awkward when it interfered with his ability to remember plans or conversations.

Like how one day, Chris had lectured him about keeping the condo clean, and the following morning when he’d slept in late, he earned new bruises to his already marred skin. His ‘spacing out’ now included Benoit’s violent fits of rages. “Yeah, it’s some sort of conference,” he murmured, tightening the laces of his wrestling boots. It would be an easy enough night, but he was so exhausted that he could barely see straight.

“Seems that the writers don’t know what to do with you,” Rey commented wryly, putting his gloves on.

Eddie snorted, staring disconnectedly out in the room, black floating dots creeping in the edge of his vision. “I’ll just have to wait until they figure something out. Not like I have much say in the matter.”

“True,” Rey agreed reluctantly. He gave a sympathetic squeeze to the other latino’s wrist. “Hang in there, holmes,” he encouraged softly.

Eddie let out a tired smirk, feeling bone weary and hoping he had enough energy to do just that. “I’ll try.”

Rey returned the smile, a faint static of worry prickling his mind at the despondency on his best friend’s face. He opened his mouth, about to offer more support, when one of the road agents hollered at him.

“Mysterio! Come here, T. Long wants to talk to you.”

Rey grimaced and moved off with a regretful sigh. “Sorry, I gotta go,” he mumbled.

Eddie waved a hand. “It’s okay, ese. I’ll see you later,” he reassured quietly. It was a lie, of course. He would be long gone with Benoit before Rey would see him again.

Rey hesitated and made his way to the stage area. “You better,” he whispered to himself forlornly, not liking the faraway look in Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie watched Mysterio leave with idled boredom. He couldn’t wait to go home and sleep. He stood up, stretching his sore muscles and yawning. He grabbed his bandage and began wrapping them around his wrists, preparing himself for the conference he had to do in the ring. He had just finished with the final piece of tape when he saw a referee stalking towards him. He immediately froze up, fear involuntarily taking control of his body. Call him paranoid, but the last time he saw someone that pissed off, he got whipped. “Hola, Eric,” he greeted the furious man.

“Hola? Really? Listen here, you asshole. The next time you hit me with a steel chair like how you did last week, I will have your ass, you hear me? I’ll make sure you get fucked if you pull that shit again!”

The shouting made Eddie flinch away from the other employee, a faint pinging noise in his ears. Logically, he knew Eric was just venting, but he couldn’t stop the panic icing his veins and stealing his breath. He backpedaled rapidly, his vision graying out in his hysteria.

“Are you evening listening to me, bastard?”

He saw the ref reaching out for him and he couldn’t help it. He blacked out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Eddie came back to full awareness, this time he wasn’t naked in bed. He was in some sort of hospital gown, lying on a cot with bright lights assaulting his eyes. He winced and brought a hand up, cold seeping into him when it caught on a thin tube. He looked over to see the IV sticking into the inside of his wrist, locked in on a vein. He shivered and sat up gingerly. There was no stabbing pain when he spread his legs, but that thought did little to soothe his rising anxiety. He tried to take slow, deep breaths, but all he succeeded in was worsening his hyperventilation. He glanced around the room frantically, recognizing it as one of the clinics of the company so he knew he was still at work. _‘How long have I been out?’_ He couldn’t find his clothes anywhere. The fact he was in a gown meant someone changed him and saw all the bruises. _‘Oh God.’_ He grasped the front of the scratchy material, gasping. There was an opened box filled with swabs, sealed bags, combs, papers, and a few other items on a counter next to his cot. His eyes caught the words written on the top of the lid. It took him a while to read the upside down letters in his exploding panic.

Then everything went deathly still. The room stopped spinning and started to cave in on him.

_MARKit - Malicious Assault/Rape Kit_

He gripped the edges of the cot, panting raggedly as everything turned white. _‘Oh God, oh God. This is not good.’_

He faintly heard the sound of a door opening and saw Pike coming in with a grave expression.

“Eddie, we need to talk.”

“What did you do?”

John held his hands up to appear non-threatening. “Please calm down and let me explain --”

“What did you _do?!_ ”

**  
**

* * *

* * *

 


	26. The Stain of Fear

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

"Please calm down and let me explain --"

 

"What did you _do?!_ "

 

John lowered his hands, a pitying gaze on his face as he took in the sight of the Latino pale and trembling. "You passed out backstage. We had to know the cause of it so I conducted another physical exam," he murmured.

 

Eddie swallowed thickly, closing his thighs shut when the doctor came closer. "Doesn't give you the right," he spat, hoping he appeared angry rather than how freaked out he really was.

 

"You'd passed out, son. We needed to know why and how. As for the kit," Pile continued, noticing the wrestler's eyes lingering on the box. "There was blood on your briefs."

 

Eddie flinched and scooted further up the cot to put some distance between him and the physician. He grasped for the blanket to cover his legs, a sense of loathing washing over him at the fact he was helpless in this situation.

 

"I'm going to have to ask you a few questions and I need you to be honest with me. No more stories, okay?"

 

Eddie gave a jerky nod, his neck heating up in humiliation as he lowered his gaze. "Sí."

 

"Do you know the attacker?"

 

"The .... attacker?"

 

"The person who gave you these injuries."

 

He bit on his lip and shook his head. "No, sir."

 

John narrower his eyes distrustfully. "That's very strange. Some of the tearings are weeks old, which means the abuse happens regularly..."

 

Eddie cursed all the things he didn't take in account, that he should had realized he couldn't hide the wounds forever. "It's not abuse," he protested, bringing his knees up to his chest. "I just like it rough."

 

John sighed and sat down in the stool chair, ambling over to his patient. "Eddie," he said gently, tilting his head to catch the downcast eyes. "Look at me, please."

 

Eddie reluctantly did so, wishing he was anywhere but here.

 

"Is that what they made you think? That you like it rough and it's okay for you to bleed?"

 

He hunched his shoulders, lowering his chin to rest on the raised knees. His eyes slid away, unable to hold the contact. "He didn't mean to cause the bleeding," he lied, shame gripping him by his throat. "It was an accident."

 

Pike suppressed a frustrated hiss at how he couldn't get Guerrero to face the truth. "If you're going to be this way, then fine. The DNA results should be back in a couple days."

 

Eddie froze, panic overriding his desire to stay quiet. "Wait! There's no need for that, I don't want to press charges," he pleaded. He wasn't so naive that he thought Benoit's career would remain untarnished after the company found out the reason behind the bruises. He didn't want to ruin his lover's life, not after the Canadian worked so hard to get to the top.

 

"It's company policy. This isn't something I can appeal."

 

He sucked in a breath, sweat starting to trickle down from his hairline. He curled up tighter, shutting his eyes. ' _This is all my fault,'_ he thought despairingly.

 

John snapped on latex gloves, seeing the Latino jump at the sharp sound. "I have to stitch up a few more of the muscles," he murmured, a pang of sympathy at the terror whitening the other man's face.

 

Eddie trembled violently when Pike set up the stirrups, fear slowly clouding his mind.

 

"Put your feet on here and spread your legs please."

 

"No."

 

John blinked at the curt tone and frowned. He placed a comforting hand on the younger man's ankle, earning a loud whine. "I'm sorry. I don't want to do this any more than you do, but those wounds will become septic and --"

 

"I said no!" Eddie shouted, yanking his foot away from Pike, his heart thundering in his chest.

 

John withdrew his hand away, torn between the decision of sedating the Latino and treating the injuries, and respecting his patient's wishes. "Do I need to remind you of what will happen if the infections set in? You'll get in trouble if you take time off work again," he coaxed, hoping to ease the smaller wrestler's into agreement. He didn't want to use force if he can avoid it.

 

Eddie studied the doctor warily, knowing Pike was right as much as he hated to admit. "How long will it take you to stitch?"

 

John relaxed, relieved that the standoff was almost over. "Shouldn't be more than ten minutes. I'll be careful. Shouldn't hurt more than a sting," he reassured, crossing his fingers.

 

Eddie deflated, the fight leaving him. There was no way he could get out of this, so he might as well accept it. He laid back on the cot, shaking harder as he slid his feet onto the stirrups. He gripped the leather, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw shut. _'Don't tense up. It'll hurt more if you're tensed.'_

 

"I need you to spread your legs."

 

The soft order made Eddie rigid and he glanced down, realizing his thighs were still pressed together. His face flushed and he pushed his fear aside to comply.

 

John gently open the legs further to gain access to the entrance. He had cleaned and washed it earlier, wiping away the crusted blood when the Latino was unconscious earlier. He grabbed a small speculum and a bottle of lube. "I'm going to use this little device to look into your opening. It might feel uncomfortable, but it shouldn't be painful," he directed, spreading the jelly generously over the metal.

 

Eddie's thighs twitched when he felt something cold being inserted inside him. He stiffened and a sharp whimper ripped out of his throat, eyes flying open at the intrusive pressure. It didn't hurt, like the doc promised, but he didn't like the icy steel invading his ass. He choked and stared up at the ceiling, shaking impossibly harder than before.

 

"Easy. You gotta relax," John cautioned, stopping once the bills of the speculum were fully seated inside the entrance. "I need you to stay still when I stitch, or I might end up poking you. I don't wish to cause further grief."

 

Eddie swallowed and tried very hard to not think about the needle and thread in Pike's hands. He almost jumped when the tip of the needle entered him, mindful of the warning. He suddenly didn't know how much longer he can take all of this; the constant prodding, the doctor hovering between his legs, and the unrelenting questions. His anxiety was reaching new levels and he couldn't breathe properly, his face tingling. He turned pasty when he felt the thread going through the tissues. He immediately retreated in his mind, going back into that dark room with the small tub and the windows hammered shut.

 

The wrestler went limp, the body pliant before Pike. He scrunched his nose in concern and glanced over. The other man's eyes were closed and the face slackened except for the brows faintly furrowed together. He sighed, not entirely surprised that his patient blacked out again. This was a stressful experience for anyone, and he knew Guerrero had exceeded the limit. He finished the last of the stitches and put the stirrups down, lowering the legs and covering the man with a blanket. He placed the tools down on the counter by the sink, taking his gloves off to wash his hands. He looked at the Latino again, gnawing on his bottom lip as an unpleasant idea popped up in his mind. Eddie had passed out in the middle of treatment and from what he had heard from one of the crew members backstage, the Chicano had also fainted when one of the referees started yelling. It seemed that the wrestler tend to black out in threatening situations as a means to cope and avoid pain. He sat down on the stool chair again, rubbing his face tiredly. "What on Earth happened to you?" he wandered aloud.

 

"How is he, doc?"

 

His skeleton nearly jumped out of his skin and he gazed over his shoulder to see the Undertaker coming in the room, carrying a black gym bag. "Mark," he greeted quietly. "Physically he's fine. Mentally, I'm not so sure."

 

Calaway nodded, understanding the implications behind John's words. "Eddie's a strong person. I'm sure he'll recover," he rumbled.

 

Pike met the comforting eyes. "You knew about his situation?" he asked curiously, noticing that the legend didn't look particularly surprised.

 

"Only recently. I haven't realized how grave it is."

 

"I don't thing any of us has," he muttered under his breath.

 

Taker opened his mouth, about to assure the physician, but then one of the RN's came rushing in.

 

"Doctor, Cena tore his biceps. Can you help us please?" Cassandra panted, brushing a flyaway strand of hair out of her eyelash.

 

John hesitated, not wanting to leave Eddie alone in the room.

 

"I'll watch him, go to Cena."

 

He flashed a grateful glance at Mark. "Thanks. If he wakes up before I return, tell him to stay put because I have to give him some meds," he quipped and followed Cass out of the clinic.

 

Calaway sat in a lone chair by the cot and dropped the bag next to him, studying the Latino. "Any time you're ready, kid."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

It took close to half an hour, but Eddie slowly opened his eyes and blinked against the harsh lights boring down on him. He sat up, realizing that he was no longer in the contraption and a blanket was over his lower body. He saw a shadow of movement in the corner of his eyes and he looked over to his left, shocked to see Taker.

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

"G-Good I guess. What are you doing here?" he sputtered, clutching the sheet tighter around him.

 

"Babysitting. Doc said he'll be back soon, he had to treat another patient," Mark replied calmly, leaning forward slightly with his elbows on his knees.

 

Eddie blushed and averted his eyes guiltily. "Sorry to be trouble for you," he mumbled apologetically.

 

"Don't. You're no trouble at all. He treated you for the stitches?" Mark gestured at the MARKit box on the counter.

 

Eddie's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red and he nodded, hating how his secret was out in the open for everyone to mock.

 

"Nothing to be embarrassed about. You had to be looked at."

 

"I usually go to UrgentCare, that way I can remain anonymous. Now he's going to get in trouble and it's all my fault," he retorted.

 

"Eddie..." Mark began, but before he could say something, Pike had came back.

 

"Oh good, you're awake. I have to give you this cream and you need to apply it daily, once at night. Do it today too. You'll need someone to help you," John rambled, handing over the container and instructions to Eddie. "Now, the company will call you either later this week or next Monday once the results are in," he added.

 

"But I don't want to press charges," Eddie insisted, taking the medicine and fidgeting with it while he stuffed the paper in one fist.

 

John's patience was wearing thin. "Then go talk to McMahon," he growled, turning around and heading out again. "Rest at home after you change," he parted before he was gone.

 

Eddie remained quiet, shivering from the air conditioning. He felt disgusting, stained with something that couldn't be cleansed.

 

"I brought your duffle bag so you can put fresh clothes in. I'll wait outside, knock when you're ready," Calaway spoke, his voice soft in the unnerving silence.

 

"Thank you," Eddie said simply, appreciating Taker's courtesy. He had no desire to talk, nor did he wish for company while he changed.

 

Mark put the bag on the cot, a few centimeters in front of Eddie. He stood up, stretching briefly, and went outside, closing the door behind him.

 

Eddie quickly tore the gown off, immediately relieved to rid himself of the scratchy cloth. He put his boxers and then the jeans, buttoning up a plain white shirt and smoothing the collar down. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, guilt weighing heavily on him. All he did is cause problems and make messes for everyone to clean up. He went to the door and opened it, spotting the Undertaker waiting for him.

 

"Ready to go, kid?" Mark asked, straightening up from where he had been leaning against the wall.

 

"Go where?" Eddie echoed, tensing  at the lazy drawl of Calaway's question.

 

"You're bunking with me for the time being. Of course you can always stay with your friends if you rather ---"

 

"No need for that," Eddie interrupted, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden to his idol. "I'll just go back to Chris."

 

Mark sighed and looked down on Guerrero, sadness filtering across his features. "I'm afraid I can't allow that."

 

"Why not?" Eddie fired back hotly, his haunches raising defensively.

 

"I'm not turning you over to your rapist," came the soft reply.

 

Eddie flinched, his temper vanishing. "Don't call him that. It's not rape," he whispered, his own voice strained.

 

"It's the truth, you need to accept it."

 

"No, it's not! He just gets a little rough, that's all."

 

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Mark commented wryly.

 

Eddie growled and puffed himself up. "It's not a lie," he snarled.

 

"If I have to carry you kicking and screaming, then so be it. The fact is I'm not letting you go back to that man tonight. You need time to heal," Mark murmured calmly, taking a step forward.

 

Eddie bared his teeth, bristling. "Don't you come near me," he threatened, a faint spark of panic lighting up in the dark recesses of his mind. Taker was well over a foot taller than him, and he was still drained from the lack of sleep as well as the constant emotional warfare at home. He wouldn't be able to put up a fight.

 

"You can call Chris and talk to him so he doesn't worry."

 

Eddie bit back a wisecrack. ' _It's not worry. He'll just get pissed off and hit me later,'_ he groused silently.

 

"At least stay with me for one night. You can see him tomorrow," Mark relented. He did understand after all.

 

"Fine," Eddie muttered, following Taker to the parking lot. He knew people care, but they were making everything worse. He was definitely going to get it when he returned to Chris on Friday.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Even though Calaway was a legend and an esteemed wrestler, Eddie wasn't expecting the man to have a double suite room at the hotel. It was open and expansive, completed with a full bathroom and two bedrooms along with a mini kitchen. It was enough to make him ashamed of where he and Benoit bunked in, as if the hotels they stayed at were tiny and shoddy in comparison. He set his bag in one of the bedrooms, plopping on the lofty mattress. It was a wonderful feeling to lay on clean sheets and he couldn't help the keening noise in the back of his throat.

 

"You can have this room. I figured you want some privacy." 

 

"Gracias, holmes," Eddie purred, hugging a pillow and nuzzling into it, curling in a ball. This was a luxury he hadn't experienced in a long time.

 

A ghost of a smile perked Mark's lips and he left to let the Latino have fun. "Don't forget to call Chris."

 

Eddie's smile disappeared and he sat up, pushing away the pillow he had been holding. He exhaled and took his phone out, his thumb hovering over the speed dial. He held his breath and pressed the button, bringing the cell to his ear. The Canadian answered after a couple rings.

 

"What do you want?"

 

' _Shit.'_ His lover was grumpy tonight. He licked his lips nervously, rubbing a knee with his other hand. "Ah, um, sorry to bother you, cariño. I'm staying with someone else for the night. I'll be home tomorrow," he explained quietly, hoping Benoit wouldn't be furious.

 

"Excuse me? Who is this 'someone?'"

 

"Um, C-C-Calaway," he stuttered anxiously.

 

"You fucking whore --"

 

"I'm not doing anything!" Eddie swore panicky, embarrassed that his chest hitched in response to Benoit's anger. "Just because I'm sleeping over doesn't mean I'm going to h-have sex."

 

"You better get your ass home first thing in the morning. I'm going to check you and if I find out you cheated on me again, I'll make you wish you were dead."

 

Before Eddie could argue any further, Benoit hung up on him. He stared at the phone for a long moment and dropped it in his lap. His best friend was cheerful earlier too. ' _I'm a fool to think it would last,'_ he thought bitterly, balling his hands into fists. He jolted when he heard the door open, glancing over in time to see Taker walking in.

 

"How was the call?"

 

"It went great. He said it's cool," Eddie lied, a plastic smile on his face almost instinctively.

 

Mark narrowed his eyes. He'd caught a little of what Guerrero had said in the phone when he passed the room on his way to the toilet. He only grunted, not wanting to have a confrontation about Chris. Not yet at least. "You might want to take a shower before you go to sleep," he advised, changing the subject.

 

Eddie shook his head sharply. It wasn't that he didn't trust Calaway, but the idea of getting naked and cleaning up with another person in the place terrified him. He much rather take a shower at Benoit's condo -- not that he was safe there. "No thank," he declined politely.

 

"You're going to feel gross after we put the cream in. I wouldn't suggest going to bed without washing yourself."

 

It took a minute for the words to register in Eddie's head. ' _We. Cream.'_ His whole body went numb with fear. "W-What?"

 

"You have to put the cream on the stitches once a night, remember? Doc said to have someone else do it because you can't apply it alone," Mark clarified gently, sympathy bleeding out of every fiber in his being at the brown eyes glazing over in horror.

 

Eddie jerked away when Calaway came closer, his fear-heightened senses making him acutely aware of everything, from the blood rushing in his ears to the faint brush of Mark's shoes dragging on the carpet. He shuddered at the sound of a lid being squeaked open, paralyzed by an old memory of Chris preparing him. "I-I don't .... Please, don't do it," he begged, scrambling away from the man.

 

Mark paused. "Eddie, they'll get infected," he reminded, placing a hand on a knee.

 

Eddie flinched, twisting away and falling off the bed in his haste to get away. "I don't care!"

 

Mark gritted his teeth and moved around the king-sized mattress. He had to calm down the Latino before Guerrero tore the stitches. "Please don't freak out, you're going to hurt yourself," he warned, reaching out for his co-worker.

 

Eddie recoiled away, expecting to be slapped. "I'm sorry! Don't do it, please. It was bad enough when I woke up with you in me. Please, don't. No lastimarme más, por favor," he pleaded incoherently, his mind blank with sheer terror.

 

Taker froze at the plaintive cry, his normally stoic face etched with shock and his gaze wide. He hadn't realized how bad things were with Benoit, for Eddie to be this frightened over his approach. Mark cursed himself for being irresponsible, it was stupid to corner the obviously traumatized Latino. He gingerly touched a trembling shoulder. "I apologize. You can find someone you trust to help you. Just do it twice tomorrow, okay?"

 

Eddie went still, stunned by the offer and his pleas faded away. He hiccuped and raised his eyes, his fear slowly dying out when he saw that there was no deception on Calaway's face.

 

"I have a shirt and sweatpants you can borrow. I'll go get them so you don't have to sleep in jeans," Mark muttered and stiffly left the room. He returned seconds later with the clothes, tossing them on the bed. "Get some rest. You look ready to collapse," he added gruffly, embarrassed at the disbelief expression that Guerrero still wore. "Why are you so surprised?"

 

"Y-You stopped."

 

"Yeah. It's called not forcing you to do something you're not comfortable with," he grumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

 

Eddie had to consciously closed his mouth. "T-Thank you," he whispered, bowing his head slightly in gratitude.

 

"Hush. Just change and go to sleep," Mark growled, walking out and closing the door. ' _Jesus, why am I so flustered over this? I'm too damn old to be blushing like a teenager,'_ he scolded himself, sitting on the loveseat couch and picking up the TV remote. Maybe a show will distract him.

 

An hour later, Mark decided to check on the younger man. He cautiously creaked the door open and peeked in the dark room, the light from the hall spilling over on the floor to the bed.

 

Eddie was fast sleep, the blankets bunched around the end of the mattress and limbs splayed out. The shirt, three sizes too big, had rode up to expose the bruised stomach and the pants were too loose, slung down past the hip bones and showing the waistband of the boxers.

 

"Damn kid is gonna catch a cold sleeping like this," Mark sighed, going over to the dozing wrestler. He pulled the shirt down and tugged the covers up to the chest. He spared a glance to Guerrero's face, a bit pleased to see it was peaceful. Hopefully the kid wouldn't have any dreams to disturb the slumber. He returned to the living room, intended on catching some zzz's himself. He would need the rest.

 

Tomorrow, he would have to have a serious talk.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 


	27. The Sting of Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I forgot to say out loud  
> How beautiful you really are to me.  
> I can't be without.  
> You're my perfect little punching bag,  
> And I need you.  
> I'm sorry."  
> \- Please Don't Leave Me by PINK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a while to update this fic :/ My depression has been really severe this summer and I've lost motivation to do anything, let alone write.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the time Eddie woke up, it was well past 11. He couldn’t recall the last time he had more than three hours of sleep let alone thirteen. A solid night of rest wasn’t something he was used to. He got out of the bed, his legs buckling under him before he managed to straighten himself up. ‘ _Why am I so sore?_ ’  He looked around the room, disorientated. This didn’t look like Chris’ condo. The pattern of the wallpaper was different than the familiar speckled grey frames. He glanced down at the clothes he was wearing, going into a blind panic when he realized they weren’t Chris’ either. _‘What the hell?!’_ He didn’t know where he was or why he was wearing another man’s clothes, but he was going to get his ass whooped again once Benoit found him. He trembled, backing against a wall and sliding down to the floor, staring blankly at the door across the room. _‘Why do I always get in trouble like this? Chris is right, I must be asking for it,’_ he chided himself. His shakings grew worse, his chest felt like it was being squeezed tight by a corset of fear. He vaguely heard the door opening, but he was already lost in the maze that sprouted in his mind from the terror constricting around his body.

Mark was instantly alert when he saw the latino crumbled on the carpet, bounding over to the younger man. He got down on one knee once he reached Guerrero, wincing at the face frozen with fright. “Eddie, it’s okay. I’m here,” he spoke quietly, grabbing a shoulder.

No response.

A frown furrowed his eyebrows. _‘This isn’t good.’_ He recognized a panic attack when he saw one, but it’d been years since he witnessed someone catatonic as a result. He tried again, grasping both shoulders this time and giving a firm shake. “Eddie, snap out of it,” he ordered.

Eddie started, his vision clearing and coming back in focus at the stern voice. It took him a second before he identified the strange figure as the Undertaker. Confusion flooded through him and he gazed up at Calaway in shock. “W-Where am I?"

“You stayed the night. Don’t you remember?”

He cocked his head to the side, still puzzled. Then the memory of yesterday rushed in and he went rigid. “Oh,” he choked out, the trembles returning with a vengeance. It was much worse than he’d thought; he was about to get his lover in trouble. ‘ _Unforgivable_ ,’ the dark voice whispered in his mind and he shivered, suddenly feeling cold.

“Come on, breakfast is ready,” Mark murmured, tugging the latino up till they were both standing. He didn’t mention the other man’s earlier panic nor the amnesia. Not that this was Guerrero’s fault, but the whole incident was dredging up some very painful flashbacks of his time spent with James. He could had sworn he left those memories behind decades ago, but he was wrong. He gave himself a shake, clearing the thoughts. He would have to deal with his own issues at a later time because right now, he had a broken co-worker to fix.

Eddie dutifully followed the larger wrestler to the kitchen, his eyes fixated on the floor as he dragged his feet. _‘Stupid, worthless, disloyal piece of caca,’_ he cursed himself, self-hatred pooling in his stomach. The smell of freshly baked pancakes wafted through the air and he spared the briefest of glance at the table, seeing the food. Nausea rose in his throat and he forced himself to sit on the chair, resisting the urge to run to the bathroom and throw up. The very last thing he wanted to do was eat.

“Go ahead and dig in. You need food,” Mark rumbled, noticing the grey look on the other man’s face. It wasn’t obvious, but he can tell that Guerrero hadn’t been eating properly for quite a while now. The fact that the chicano slept for a long time last night was slightly worrying as well. It must had been bad with Benoit, he reflected, for Eddie to be in such a haggard state. No wonder the normally agile wrestler had been struggling at work.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not hungry,” Eddie mumbled, keeping his head lowered.

“Kid, you gotta eat at some point.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he insisted, clenching his jaw stubbornly.

Mark heaved a sigh and pushed the plates aside. “Okay. We need to talk about Chris.”

Eddie’s heart plummeted and he swallowed the bitter bile down. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he spoke in a tiny voice, crossing his arms defensively.

Mark bit back a growl, growing slightly frustrated and yet at the same time, he can understand where the latino was coming from. Hell, he’d been there himself. He knew very well what it was like to deal with concerned friends, to be in denial about the abuse. “Okay,” he grunted, dropping the subject without a fight. Granted, he did realize that Guerrero would eventually had to face the truth, but he wasn’t going to be overbearing. He had to gingerly ease Eddie down that path. Being forceful would only result in a brick wall between them. “What do you want to do now?”

“Go home,” Eddie immediately replied, surprised at how Calaway didn’t persist the conversation. Even though he was dreading to return to Chris, perfectly aware of the looming fight, he felt …. somewhat safer there. At the very least, he could predict what will happen. Here, it was unfamiliar, awkward, to be in a place with someone whom he couldn’t read. It made him uncomfortable.

“Alright. Need a ride?” Mark commented, not criticizing the smaller man’s decision. He didn’t think it was a good idea to go back to Benoit, but he knew better than to voice his opinion.

“No thanks. I’ll catch the bus. Besides I thought you weren’t going to let me go back,” Eddie remarked, finally meeting Calaway’s soft gaze with a hint of curiosity.

“Not last night, no. You needed a break. However, you’re an adult. I can’t stop you from doing what you want.”

He narrowed his eyes and dipped his head, acknowledging the legend’s explanation. While he appreciated Calaway’s generosity, he didn’t want to stay here all day and fret about what will happen once he got home. He stood up from the table to go to the bedroom so he can change back into his own clothes. He hitched the oversized pants up as he tripped over the loose clothes, stumbling to the bed and plopping on it. “Damn guy is huge,” he grumbled, yanking the sweats and tee shirt off. He shivered at the cold air brushing over his exposed skin and quickly tugged the jeans over his briefs, moving on to put his shirt and jacket on. Most of the bruises had faded away to a dull yellow color, except for the dark ones staining his collarbone and stomach. He slipped his feet into the sneakers, tying the laces in a messy knot. He draped the strap of his duffle bag over one shoulder and gathered Taker’s clothes in his arm, returning to the main room.

Mark glanced up when he heard footsteps, seeing Guerrero coming towards him and handing over the shirt and pants.

“Thanks for letting me wear these,” Eddie quipped politedly.

“Of course,” Mark murmured, taking the clothes from the outstretched arms. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride?”

“Si,” Eddie confirmed with a bright smile. He was thankful for Taker’s kindness, but he rather be alone for a bit. “Gracias,” he added, making his way to the front door.

"See you around then,” Mark sighed, waving a hand in farewell.

Eddie left and closed the door behind him, adjusting the bag’s strap and heading to the elevator. He let out a deep breath, trying to draw the strength he would need for later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**  
**

 

_“I’m feelin’ kind of n-a-s-t-y, I might just take you home with me.”_

Lita sang along to the lyrics blaring on the radio, fingers tapping the steering wheel in rhythm to the song’s beat. She came to a stop at a red light next to the Loews Miami Beach Hotel. Her gaze wandered to the side on her right, surveying the five-star inn. Surprise reeled over her when she spot a certain latino. She quickly got in the right turn lane, cutting off an SUV and earning a loud honk.

Eddie jumped at the angry beep that came from the traffic, seeing a dark blue sedan pulling in the bus zone. A window rolled down on the passenger’s side and he recognized Amy waving at him. _‘What is she doing here?’_ he thought, puzzled.

“Hey, Ed! Want a lift?” Lita called out, glancing behind her to make sure the bus hadn’t arrived yet. The last thing she needed was another ticket.

Eddie opened his mouth, about to turn down the offer just as he had done with Taker, but then he paused. He’d been sitting outside in the blistering heat under the Florida’s sun for the past fifteen minutes, his anxiety slowly increasing the more he thought about what Benoit would do to him. The Canadian was going to be beyond furious with him, and he would be lucky to come out of the beating without any broken bones. He didn’t want to deal with questions, but he also didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts either. He’d assumed being without company would make him feel better, but it only made him more and more nervous. “That would be nice, actually,” he answered, standing up from the bench and grabbing his duffle bag. He climbed in the rental, sighing in relief at the A/C blasting in the car. “Thank you,” he murmured, leaning back in the seat.

“Any time!” Lita chirped, eyeing the hotel again with more interest. “Did you stay there or something?” she asked, merging back on the flowing traffic. Just in time too, as the shuttle began pulling in the bus stop zone.

“Si. I, um, I bunked with Calaway last night. He had a really nice suite,” Eddie coughed, feeling bashful. He still couldn’t believe Mark would choose to associate with someone like _him_. He knew he didn’t deserve the kindness, that he was unworthy of the legend’s help.

“Oh, that’s cool! What was it like? I always wanted to stay at a penthouse kinda place,” Lita exclaimed excitedly.

Eddie relaxed from where he’d been sitting rigid, relieved that the diva wasn’t questioning the reason _why_ he stayed with Taker. “It was really bueno. They had the softest pillows I’ve ever slept on,” he replied.

“Lucky. I’m sick of sleeping in shitty motels with the beds hard as rock and the sheets dry as sandpaper,” Lita complained, flooring the gas to beat a light that’d just turned yellow. “So where am I taking you?”

Eddie stifled a chuckle at Amy’s grousing, finding that he’d missed her rants. “Chris, por favor. He’s renting his cousin’s apartment for a couple weeks. Um, it’s the Stratfords I think,” he murmured, trying to remember the address. “His number is 4134….um…”

“Oh, I know where that is. It’s only about half an hour away,” Lita chimed, driving towards FL-94 E to head to the turnpikes. “One thing I hate about this route is all the darned tolls.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, crestfallen and sinking down in his seat. “I didn’t mean to impose.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s no biggie honestly. Stop apologizing for everything,” Lita scolded teasingly, taking one hand off the wheel to bump her fist against the chicano’s shoulder. “Lighten up!”

Eddie wished he could do that, but he couldn’t get rid of the burden weighing heavily on him. He closed his eyes, listening to the radio playing one of the pop songs.

_“Baby, can’t you see I’m calling? A guy like you should wear a warning. It’s dangerous. I’m falling, there’s no escape. I can’t wait. I need a hit. Baby, give me it. You’re dangerous, I’m loving it.”_

They had to go through at least seven tolls before Lita merged onto I-195 E and left the interstate to turn on Chase Avenue. They drove through the bustling city in peaceful silence. She glanced at her best friend, noticing that the dark chestnut eyes were finally open. “At least it’s nice outside. All sunshine without a cloud in sight,” she quipped, breaking the quietness.

“Mmhmm,” Eddie grunted, staring out of the window in uneasiness now that they were getting closer to the apartment.

“You and Chris should go swimming! It’s not often that we get to go somewhere as luxurious as here and have time to chill,” she suggested, turning on a backroad. She knew a shortcut that would get them to their destination faster without having to put up with traffic or lights.

“Si,” Eddie muttered, crossing his arms to suppress the shivers. _‘He would just hold me under the waters,’_ he thought broodingly. He had to tell Benoit about the exam, that their secret was out. He’d kept his promise and never told anyone, but that wouldn’t matter. His lover would blame him. Always had.

They arrived at the Stratfords’ parking lot, Lita coming to a stop by the entrance to 4134. “We all oughta hang out this week. It’s been a while.”

Eddie forced a smile and nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll tell Chris and we can make a date,” he lied, getting out of the sedan. “Thanks for the ride, chica.”

“Yeah,” Lita echoed, watching the wrestler walk to the apartment, her heart twisting slightly. Adam had called her last month, pissed off and yelling. She didn’t believe him when he told her what Eddie said. She knew the latino, knew he wouldn’t make them worry on purpose. Why he would say that to Copeland, she had no idea. It must had been something quite serious for Eddie to break the friendship. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and yawned. She didn’t bring any of this up during the ride because she didn’t want to cause more stress on her friend; she was sad that their group was slowly but surely disintegrating. She shifted the gear in Drive and pulled out of the parking lot, going back to the main roads.

Something was terribly wrong and she didn’t have a clue how she could fix it.

**  
**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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**  
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Eddie stepped inside the apartment, closing the door softly shut. He dropped his bag on the floor. “I’m home, Chris!” he called out, walking to the living room and tugging the sleeves of his jacket anxiously. Maybe he’ll be lucky and Benoit wouldn’t be mad ….

“Took you long enough.”

He froze at the growl, whirling around to see Chris stalking towards him. He took a step back, gulping his fear down. “I’m s-sorry. I overslept.”

“In another man’s bed,” Chris spat, curling his hands into fists.

“No! The place had separate bedrooms. I slept alone,” Eddie protested, flinching when Benoit slapped him, pain bursting from his reddening cheek.

“Why the hell should I believe you? All you do is go around spreading your legs.”

“That’s not true!”

“Stop lying!”

“I’m not fucking lying! Do you really think that Mark Calaway, the damn Undertaker, would do that with me? He has tastes,” Eddie snarled, squaring his shoulders and glaring defiantly at the Canadian. He was weary of constantly having to defend himself, to convince Benoit that he wasn’t some puta.

Chris paused thoughtfully. “Fair enough. You have a point there, you are out of Calaway’s league after all. He wouldn’t be with trash like you,” he relented, scratching his chin. “Hell, even you’re beneath me.”

Eddie blinked the tears back, feeling stung. “Then why do you stay with me if I’m so clearly not your equal?” he couldn’t help but spit out, hurt coloring his words.

“Because you’re mine.”

“Yours? Like some kind of property? A toy you can just beat up whenever you feel like it? Son mierda broma ahora?” he hissed, shying away from Benoit reaching out for him. “You’re a real pendejo.” He turned around, intent on going outside for some fresh air -- it felt like Benoit was poisoning him. The next moment, he found himself smashed against a wall, his ears ringing and vision whiting out. There was a distinct, coppery taste of blood coating the inside of his throat and he swallowed tightly, shuddering. Benoit was behind him, one hand fisted in the collar of his shirt and the other on his hip, keeping him pinned to the plaster. Panic broke through his briefly built boldness, leaving him weak and terrified. Months of Chris continually hitting and shutting him down left him without much of a backbone. He didn’t have a single ounce of resolve in his body, didn’t have the courage to actually stand up for himself. He didn’t like it when he was used as a plaything, a stress ball for his lover to chew on, but he didn’t have the guts to fight.

“I don’t appreciate your tone,” Chris snarled, leaning in to breathe hotly on one ear. “You need to speak to me with respect, or we’re going to have a problem and I will end you.”

Despite the threatening undertone to Benoit’s growl, Eddie twisted slightly to meet the icy stare. “But you don’t even respect me.”

A moment of stony silence fell upon them and Chris’ eyebrow twitched ominously. “Need I to remind you that you haven’t exactly done anything to earn my respect?” he rasped, sliding from the hip to begin unzipping the latino’s jeans.

Eddie whined, desperately trying to plant himself against the wall, sweat dampening his face and trickling down his neck. “Wh-What are you doing?” he whimpered, squirming uselessly under the pin.

“Did you already forget? I told you I was going to check to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid,” Chris muttered, tightening his hold on the shirt to get a better grip while he finally got the blasted zipper down.

Eddie stiffened, his breaths turning into short little gasps as he clawed the wall in a vain attempt to get away. Everything was starting to feel woozy and he fought to stay conscious. While he would love to do nothing more than to black out, he didn’t want to come back to awareness with Benoit fucking him again. He had to stop his lover from finding the stitches because if that were to happen before he had time to explain….. Another shudder rippled through him and he twisted again, an elbow slamming the back of his head as a result. There was this quiet fear in the recesses of his mind that he would mess up for the last time, that he would push the Canadian over the edge and end up in a pine box. He was certain this was the limit of Benoit’s willingness to forgive him. He lashed out, catching Chris on the undercut of the jaw, and felt his friend recoiling away from him with a pained hiss. Adrenaline borne of hysteria pumped through his system, leaving him shaky and sensitive to every movement.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Chris spat, wiping away the blood and narrowing his eyes at the latino. “Do you _want_ me to hurt you?”

Eddie exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I-I don’t want to fight. It’s...It’s just we need to talk,” he stammered, playing with the drawstrings of his jacket. He felt his jeans beginning to sag and quickly tugged them over his hips, pulling the zipper up. His own brown eyes darted everywhere, focusing on random things so he didn't have to meet the cold gaze. “It’s important.”

“Well, talk then. Before I kick your ass,” Chris gestured impatiently, folding his arms together crossly.

Eddie flinched and looked down on the carpet, shuffling his feet. He explained how he’d passed out at work yesterday and that the doctor had to conduct an exam on him while he was unconscious. He brought up that he tried to convince the physician it wasn’t abuse, but the company was still going to do an investigation and even though he didn’t mention Benoit’s name, the man was probably going to be fired once the DNA results come through next week. He finished with “I’m so sorry, Chris. I tried, I really did, but no one is listening to me.”

For the longest time, Chris just stared at the chicano with an unreadable expression. Then his face contorted in fury and he lunged forward, sending Guerrero crashing to the wall again. “You useless fuck!” he roared, pounding a fist to the younger man’s cheek. “After everything I’ve done for you, you just went and stabbed me behind the back!”

Eddie cried out, his head snapping to the left and blood trickling out of his mouth. “It’s not my fault!” he argued hoarsely, bringing his hands up to defend himself.

“You’re about to get me fired all because you decided to play the victim card just so you can hold a pity party for yourself!” Chris yelled over the protest.

Anger flared up in Eddie, his own temper taking control. “Fuck you!" he spat, shoving the other wrestler off, throwing several punches at the advancing Canadian. “I fucking tried. I told them that it was a misunderstanding, that they got it wrong, but they were adamant. It’s not like I just went and accused you of .. of … raping me and using me as a punching bag. I tried to change their minds, Chris,” he continued, limping away from Benoit so that he wasn’t trapped against the wall anymore. “And I fucking do everything for you. I try to keep the place clean, I cook your meals, I do your laundry. Hell, I even let you hit me so you can feel better. Don’t you act like I’m some freeloader. I’m not perfect, but I fucking try to be for you, pendejo!”

Chris was left speechless at the sudden outburst, gazing at the latino open-mouthed, the fists hitting his chest repeatedly. He didn’t know what to say in the face of such a fury from his normally plaint lover. He forced himself to move away from the assaults and left the room.

Eddie panted, relaxing from his stance and his arms dropping to his sides. His temper slowly faded and he was stunned once he realized he had just went off on Benoit. _‘Am I suicidal?’_ he thought dismayed, feeling sick to his stomach. The bigger surprise was that Chris had simply left the room without a word, without beating him up to a bloody pulp. He honestly didn’t know what came over him; what triggered him to snap. It was like a crack in the dam that caused the water to flood and spilled over an unsuspecting city. He let out a shaky sigh and walked on the couch, collapsing on the cushion and planting his head in his hands. _‘What the fuck is wrong with me? I just made everything worse.’_

Chris was in the bathroom, washing his face and dabbing peroxide on the cut. He glanced up in the mirror, studying his reflection while his latin lover’s words echoed in his mind. He hadn’t realized how stressed out Eddie had been and he felt horrible for slave driving the smaller man.

__

_( “What are you talking about? He’s the one who chose to do it, you didn’t force him.” )_

The rasping whisper that sounded vaguely like twisted version of his own voice wouldn't shut up and he swallowed, shaking his head slightly to dislodge it. _‘Still, I’ve become a monster in his eyes. He’s scared of me.’_ He didn’t miss the flash of terror across his friend’s face earlier when he had lost his self-control and hit the younger wrestler. _‘It’s not normal. I don’t know why I keep hurting him.’_

_( “Because he’s a whore who needs to be put in his place from time to time.” )_

_‘No, he’s not!’_ Chris protested silently. _‘He’s a sweetheart who puts up with my issues. He doesn’t deserve this, any of this.’_

_( “Ha! If you really believed that, the little bitch wouldn’t be covered in bruises. Stop lying to yourself and admit it -- you like making him bleed. Things would be so much easier if you just accept the truth.” )_

Chris scowled and turned away from his reflection that seemed to be mocking him. One thing he knew for sure that it was unusual for the latino to blow up like that. _‘He might need to go to counseling so he can handle the stress better.’_ He would have to ease up on the hitting, until the investigation was over at least. Perhaps he could help his lover forget the incidents as well to increase his chance of getting away scot free.

Eddie heard Benoit returning to the living room, looking up warily. The Canadian didn’t seem to be angry, but it didn’t make him feel any better. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Thank you for apologizing, but are you okay?”

He fidgeted on the couch, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess..why?”

“You blew up on me. That’s not like you.”

He blushed and averted his eyes. “I-I don’t know …” he trailed off.

Chris sat down next to the smaller man, noticing the way Guerrero tensed at the proximity. “Perhaps you should start going to a therapist so you don’t keep all your feelings bottled up until the pressure gets to a bursting point,” he suggested.

Eddie chewed on his lower lip, anxiety imploding in his chest when Benoit placed a hand on his knee. He was sure it was meant to be comforting, but the touch instilled fear because the only time they ever had any physical contact that wasn’t of violent nature was when Chris wanted to get intimate. He pressed his thighs together, hoping sex wasn’t on the plate. “I know,” he murmured quietly, “it’s just that you’re always calling me names and treating me like garbage. It hurts after a while, holmes.”

Chris frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side almost in an innocent manner. “I say things in the heat of the moment, and I am sorry for that, but I don’t treat you like trash. What are you talking about?”

Eddie’s throat closed up and he met Benoit’s gaze in shock. _‘How does he not know?’_ This was just bizarre. “You’re always smacking me or kicking me around,” he clarified in a small voice, sitting perfectly still when the hand squeezed his leg.

“I don’t do that, love,” Chris insisted earnestly, smiling sweetly.

Eddie gaped at the Canadian incomprehensibly. “Yes you do! You do it every day,” he exclaimed indignantly.

“I’m not an asshole. I’ve never laid a hand on you. Are you sure you’re okay, cheri?”

He stopped at the genuine concern, trembling. _‘What’s going on?’_ he thought frantically. He knew his memory was shit, but there was no way everything that had been happening for this past year was all in his head. _‘I didn’t imagine any of this. That’s impossible,’_ he tried to reassure himself.

“Besides, if I hit you all the time, then that means I’m some abusive douche. Right? Do you think I’m that kind of person?” Chris asked, turning serious and catching the downcast eyes.

Eddie’s self-confidence faltered and he hesitantly shook his head. “N-No. Not at all.”

“Then I’m not. I swear I’ve never hit you, Eddie. Not once. I’m not an abuser, I wouldn’t ever hurt you,” Chris spoke firmly, leaning in to brush a chaste kiss along his lover’s cheek. “You don’t hurt the people you love.”

Eddie watched Benoit stand up and head towards the kitchen, digging his nails into the denim fabric of his jeans. “What about work?”

Chris only offered a small grin. “We’ll deal with it on Monday. We will explain to the bosses, they should believe us and drop the investigation,” he answered nonchalantly, grabbing Hamburger Helper out of the cabinet to begin prepping for dinner. “I don’t have anything to worry about, do I? Since it’s all a misunderstanding like you said?”

Eddie nodded again, a vague sensation of an abyss opening a hole in his center and filling it with dread. Benoit’s insistence that the beatings never took place rattled him. He suddenly didn’t trust himself, didn’t trust the fragileness of his memories. _‘Did I just made it all up?’_ He wondered if it was possible that he was losing his mind.

 **  
** Perhaps everything had been some sort of an unpleasant dream…?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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	28. The Element of Trust (Or Lack Thereof)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where is the moment we needed the most  
> You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost  
> They tell me your blue skies fade to gray  
> They tell me your passion's gone away  
> And I don't need no carryin' on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't updated for almost two months! :o Here's an extra long chapter! Thanks for reading

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The weekend had been unsettling to say the least. Chris hadn’t snapped, not once. The Canadian never raised his voice, never threatened the latino.

 

Eddie swallowed down his uncertainty. He still wasn’t entirely sure if he’d actually imagined the beatings, but he remained skeptical of his lover’s….’act,’ if it could even be called an act. The bruises on his body had to come from someone, but the only person who he spent time with was usually Chris, and yet his best friend claimed innocence.

 

_“Are you calling me a liar? Why would I ever hurt you?”_

 

He bit his lip, shaking the flashback out of his head. The memories still haunted him, taunting him with cruel recollections of harsh arguments and iron fists, but were they true memories? He didn’t really know anymore. He curled up where he was sitting on the couch, tucking his legs underneath him while he absently watched a rerun of Boy Meets World.

 

Chris finished cleaning the dishes, putting the last couple plates in the dishwasher. He glanced towards the living room, his gaze softening when he saw his cheri relaxing. It was nice to see the younger man doing something other than staring out of the window with a lost look. _‘It’s your fault though.’_ He winced internally. The soft voice was gentler than the guttural whispering in his mind, continually chastising him for playing games with the latino while the dark one asked for blood. It was a constant battle, venturing between wanting to be gentle with Eddie and beating the shit out of the other wrestler. He would be lying if he said that this didn’t scare him; it was downright terrifying. He never wanted to hurt his dear friend, but it seemed to be unavoidable. It was impossible for him to change his ways and he didn’t want to leave his partner. He straightened his shoulders, freeing his head of cobwebs. There was no sense in dwelling on things beyond his control. He would have to keep up with this pretense, until Monday. _‘This is for Eddie’s own good too,’_ he rationalized quietly. He cleared his throat and went to sit on the couch. “So, what’s on the tube?”

 

Eddie stiffened when he felt the seats dipped, his nerves still on high alert even though Benoit made no moves to hit him. He kept his eyes on the show, hands fidgeting in his lap. “Um, just a bunch of old shows,” he mumbled, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling at the close proximity. Why was it that whenever the Canadian was near him, that any touches - even the most gentlest ones - either sent him into a panic attack or left him with a sick fear that enveloped his body? There was no reason why his cariño should make him feel nervous. _‘What the hell is wrong with me?’_ he thought depressingly, guilt flushing through him; he shouldn’t be uptight like this. Not for the first time, he wished that he could be normal, to relax and enjoy the company of his best friend without terror taking over and ruining the moment.

 

“Cool,” Chris commented, tapping his knee with one finger. It was awkward playing as someone who was patient. Guerrero had the uncanny talent to piss him off; it was enough to make his teeth grind. He’d spent all day yesterday trying not to lash out, digging his nails and cutting crescent scars into his palms to suppress his anger from showing. “Anything you would like for dinner tonight?”

 

Eddie shrugged. “Dunno,” he replied. He remembered the shock when Benoit asked him the same question on Saturday, stunned that the man offered to cook for him. He was used to having to fend for himself.

 

Chris couldn’t help but let out an irritated sigh. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

 

Eddie flinched and looked down shamefully. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “but I don’t know what to eat. You can make whatever.” All he can do is apologize for being useless.

 

“Fine,” Chris said tersely, getting off the couch and returning to the kitchen. He was reaching the end of the rope and he couldn’t wait for tomorrow so everything can go back to the way they were. He began preparing the frozen Tony pizza, shoving the food into the oven. _‘I deserve a gold star for my behavior,’_ he thought grouchily. He’d been a good boy and all he got in return was a cold shudder and frightened looks.

 

Eddie sunk lower in the cushion, despair bleeding into his heart. Nothing he said seemed to satisfy Benoit and every scoff made him wither with a sharp reminder that he was a burden. There may not be any physical violence, but the scorn in his lover’s voice reinforced the dread he felt. He stood up and walked towards the hallway so he wouldn’t bother Chris. He plopped onto the mattress in the master bedroom, staring dully at the ceiling. He heard a faint vibration coming from the tableside, flashing a quick glance over to his left. It was his cell, going off with an incoming call. He reluctantly sat up and grabbed the phone. He frowned at the screen; he didn’t recognize the number since it wasn’t in his contacts. After a brief moment of hesitation, he answered it with an apprehensive “hello.”

 

“Hey, kid.”

 

His mouth fell open in surprise at the familiar rumbling voice, doing a double take. “M-Mark? Is that y-you?” he stammered. “How did you get my cell?”

 

“Rey gave me the digits. I wanted to check up on you and see how you were doing.”

 

“Ah, I’m doing okay, gracias,” Eddie automatically responded. It was a habit - reassuring his friends that he wasn’t hurt. He didn’t need the prying questions, especially when Benoit would only accuse him of liking the attention. “Um, can I ask you a question?”

 

“You just did.”

 

The dry grunt made him roll his eyes despite the pool of unease settling in his stomach. “Smartass pendejo,” he growled.

 

There was a snort of amusement and then “I’m just messing with you. But what is it?”

 

He chewed on his inner cheeks, suddenly feeling shy. “Um, when you were with J-James, did you ever feel like….” he trailed off, trying to find the words to adequately describe the unnamed fear. “Like you were imagining things? Erm, kinda like it was all a nightmare?” It wasn’t quite accurate, but it was the closest he could express the instability he was experiencing. “You don’t have to answer that,” he added hastily, acutely aware that he was treading on dangerous grounds.

 

The Undertaker didn’t say anything for a long, long time. He thought the legend had hung up, but then he heard the sound of a throat clearing.

 

“Do you mean denial?”

 

Eddie shook his head, frustration swimming over him. “No, I mean like James acting as if he’s not...hurting you.”

 

Another stretch of silence followed after that.

 

“Chris is manipulating your memories, eh?”

 

He recoiled away from the calm voice, hating how Calaway could see right through him. _‘Am I that easy to read?’_ It wasn’t even that long ago when he was able to protect his secrets; now, he was like an open book. “I-I don’t know. He said he never laid a hand on me, but I’m covered in bruises. Why would he lie to me?” he faltered, a lump the size of his fist forming in his throat. “At least I-I think he’s lying, but he could be right. Maybe I made the whole thing up in my mind.”

 

“...If he’s telling the truth, then where did the bruises come from?”

 

Mark’s placid tone soothed Eddie’s frayed nerves, allowing him to take a moment’s respite and regather his composure. “From work?” he replied carefully.

 

“Do you truly think all that is a result of being a wrestler?” Calaway challenged.

 

Eddie clenched his jaw, tears prickling behind his closed eyelids as he bowed his head. “I..I really don’t know,” he choked out, the rest of his sentence getting cut off in a strangled gasp. “Why would he hurt me?” He can still recall the fading contusions dappled between his thighs, still recalled the sharp horror that constricted his chest.

 

“I can’t tell you why,” Mark murmured gently, “But I can promise you that you did not ‘imagine’ it.”

 

Eddie sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his other hand. “But doesn’t that mean I’m a bad partner? If he has to act this way?”

 

“No, Eddie, it doesn’t. Chris’ actions has nothing to do with you.”

 

Oh, how much he wanted to wrap himself in the soft reassurances even though he knew he didn’t deserve Calaway’s compassion. “I wish I could believe that,” he muttered bitterly.

 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, kid.”

 

A wave of exhaustion slammed into Eddie, sapping the last of his energy. He did always get drained whenever he talked to someone. “Yeah, I’ll try,” he lied, letting out a yawn. “I’m gonna to take a nap.”

 

“Alright, I’ll see you around. Shoot me a text anytime you need me.”

 

The offer made him strangely warm inside and he couldn’t stop a small smile from gracing across his chapped lips. “Gracias, ese.” He hung up, flinging his phone on the other side of the bed before he turned on his side with his hands folded underneath his cheek. He yawned again, his eyes drooping shut as he let sleep take over.

**  
  
**

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

The pizza Chris had put in the oven caught on fire and he barely managed to fume the flames down before the smoke detector went off. He threw the ruined food in the sink and grabbed the cordless telephone, deciding to order Dominos instead.

 

Half an hour later, the delivery driver pulled up in their driveway. He gave the young high schooler a $20 and told the boy to keep the change. He closed the door and set the box on the counter, casting a worried look down the hall. The latino had left the living room well over a hour ago and there hadn’t been any noises. His brows furrowed and he went to check on his friend. Pushing the bedroom door that was slightly creaked open, he was annoyed to find the smaller man passed out on the mattress. _‘All he does is sleep, sleep, sleep. Lazy bastard.’_ He strided up to the side of the bed, shaking the limp body roughly. “Eddie, get your ass up.”

 

Eddie fidgeted uncomfortably, mewling in his sleep while a nightmare clawed its way through his brain. The cold snarls only served to intensify the dream.

 

“Eddie. Eddie!”

 

He woke up gasping, clutching the front of his shirt as he jolted up violently. His vision blurred slightly and he tensed when he realized someone was on the bed, the weight crushing the box springs. He felt Benoit slap him in the face, and that snapped him back to reality. The edges of his view of the world around him seemed vaguely distorted, but then adjusted itself back to solid existence. “C-Chris?” he said his lover’s name, hurt and confusion coloring his shaking voice.

 

“God, cheri. I was so worried. You wouldn’t wake up. Don’t scare me like that,” Benoit continued, his expression not giving away for second that he’d just visibly hit the chicano.

 

If it weren’t for the stinging on his cheek, he would have thought he’d imagined it. Eddie felt sick, the dread becoming more powerful. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you stress.”

 

Chris only searched the dark chestnut gaze for a fleeting moment. “I got enough to deal with. Just watch yourself, okay? Pizza is ready,” he muttered, getting on his feet from where he was leaning over Guerrero on the bed.

 

Eddie nodded. “Yessir,” he assented, a flicker of embarrassment heating up at the chastisement. He watched the Canadian retreat out of the room before cupping the inflamed cheek, wincing. If Calaway was right and everything that had happened in the past nine months truly occurred, then why would Benoit treat him like this? He gripped his disheveled hair with both hands and twisted the roots, bringing his knees up. The whole situation was starting to drive him crazy and he didn’t know which side to believe. Every fiber and muscle screamed at him to accept the fact he was being swat around like a disobedient wife in an unruly household, and yet his heart pleaded that all of this was just Benoit’s misguided way of showing love. He exhaled quietly, shivering from a coldness he couldn’t explain.

 

It took effort, but he finally made it to the kitchen, keeping  wary eye on Chris who was chomping on a slice of pizza, the melted cheese dripping off the sides and pooling on the paper plate. He got a napkin and grabbed a small piece out of the delivery box, taking a tiny bite every now and then. The silence was absolutely distressing, a spark of tension between the two men.

 

Eventually, Eddie shoved the napkin with crumbs aside, studying Benoit’s face nervously. The Canadian didn’t appear to be in a foul mood and so he stood up, deciding to return to the bedroom. He was sure he stayed long enough to be polite.

 

“Where are you going, cheri?”

 

 _‘Guess that wasn’t long enough,’_ he cursed, fiddling with his fingers while he worried his lower lip. “Ah, um, I was going to take a shower,” he stuttered. It was a lie, but if he told Benoit about wanting to sleep again, the other wrestler might just want to lay with him and that was the very last thing he could deal with.

 

“Mind if I join you?” Chris purred sultry, disappointment flashing through him when the latino went rigid.

 

“I rather be a-alone,” Eddie sputtered, wrapping an arm around his stomach as a stab of dread trudged down his spine. He took a step back when his best friend got up and walked towards him with a mask of concern on the handsome face.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay, dear? You’re acting awfully strange,” Chris murmured, reaching out for the younger man who withdrew away from him with wide eyes.

 

“Strange, how?” Eddie echoed, his breathing faltering and he couldn’t stop the low whine when Benoit grasped his shoulder. It was instinct borne of fear and desperation; a learned behavior, nothing more, but it didn’t make his reaction any less mortifying.

 

“That,” Chris gestured with a frown. “It’s like you’re scared of me or something.”

 

Eddie raised his gaze from the floor, dismayed to see that his lover was on the verge of tears. “It’s not...I just don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he mumbled, scuffing his socks on the carpet.

 

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right? I’m here for you,” Chris offered, wrapping an arm around the latino. “You trust me, don’t you?”

 

Eddie blanched, the soothing words reverberating in his mind. He did not think - implored - that his best friend didn’t know what that sentence stirred in his memories. _‘If they were real memories.’_ He tried to drag himself away, to focus on the warm flesh next to him, on the presence of Benoit that should be comforting.

 

_“And how long are you going to keep lying to yourself? You may be asking me to stop, but the rest of you is begging for me to continue,” Chris pressed on, nibbling on an earlobe. “Do you trust me, love?”_

 

Eddie closed his eyes and tried to recite the script he was suppose to follow for Friday’s SmackDown, but he can’t stop shaking, can’t stop remembering.

 

_“When are you going to stop being so selfish?”_

__

 

_“What?”_

__

 

_“You know very well what I mean. Here I am, doing everything I can to make you happy. I’m even going to therapy so I won’t hurt you, and what are you doing on your end? Running away and acting like I’m a bad guy. The least you can do is let me love you.”_

 

Eddie remembered it happening, remembered the pain and fear.

 

Chris had asked him if he’d trusted the Canadian, as if their bond was considered consent.

 

It wasn’t.

 

And now, bizarrely enough, Chris was asking him the same question after all this time.

 

“Eddie?”

 

He opened his mouth, but only a soft sound came out. All he wanted to do was hide under the covers. He wished escape, but the arm wrapped around his trembling shoulders anchored him firmly in place.

 

“Don’t you trust me?” Chris sounded hurt.

 

Eddie met the perturbed blue eyes, his own gaze brimming with unshed tears. “No,” he whispered, squirming free of the embrace and hurriedly walking down the hall adjacent to the kitchen. Instead of returning to the master room, he hid into the spare bedroom, locking the door. He slid onto the floor, his back against the mahogany wood frame, and tears fell freely. He stared bleakly at nothingness, hiccuping slightly. He hadn’t prayed in months, convinced that God was punishing him for the old days where he was a drug addict and a crazed alcoholic, but he didn’t know who else to turn to. “I don’t understand why he keeps doing this, but please….please make him stop. I can’t take it,” he pleaded into the empty air, his voice cracking, and buried his face into the raised knees.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there crying. It felt like hours. He heard footsteps nearing the guest room and he shivered violently when there was a delicate knock. He made it to his feet, swaying and dizziness causing him to feel lightheaded. He hesitantly unlocked the door and opened it, peering at the stout wrestler. “Y-Yes?”

 

“Oh, cheri,” Chris breathed, shouldering into the room at the sight of the drying trails on the latino’s tear-stained cheeks. “What’s the matter? Did I do something?” he crooned, brushing a thumb to wipe away fresh droplets slipping down to the chin. “Talk to me.”

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Eddie whimpered, crumbling into the man’s arms. He wasn’t sure if he’d truly had a flashback, or if it was something else he’d imagined. “I think I'm going loco.”

 

“Shh, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. I promise. I won’t make you feel like you can’t ever trust me,” Chris assured, petting the messy hair. “I think you should try to rest,” he added, gently steering his co-worker to the queen sized bed.

 

“Okay,” Eddie agreed, his head drooping forward. It was as if all his strength suddenly got sucked away in a vacuum. He was laid down carefully on the mattress, Benoit draping the comforter over his shivering body. A warm pair of lips pressed against his forehead, thawing his chilled skin.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make everything better. You don’t have to be scared anymore. I love you, dear.”

 

The affectionate murmur made him smile faintly and he leaned into the caresses. He shouldn’t let his guard down. That was just make everything so much more painful when Benoit’s other shoe dropped. Eddie was useless after all.

 

This was too dangerous. Eddie was rejoicing in this; he was happy. He could feel himself believing in a future where he wasn’t used as a punching bag, that maybe Chris really did love and care for him and didn’t just need him for sex. But thinking these things would be far too dreadful because he was bound to lose it all, and now it felt like he had so much more to lose.

 

Chris Benoit always made him this vulnerable.

 

 

 

 

**  
  
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__

_His arm was twisted behind his back, being wrenched ruthlessly until his shoulder popped out of its socket and an agonized scream tore out of his throat._

 

_“I fucking told you not to flirt with that damn waitress, but you just had to be a slut, didn’t you?”_

__

 

_He tried to protest, to defend himself against the unjust accusations, but an elbow jabbed into his exposed joint and he screamed again._

__

 

_“Keep your damn mouth shut! I don’t want to hear your bullshit lies. If you really want to make it up to me, then get on your knees.”_

__

 

_And so he did, eyes burning with shame at the sound of a zipper being undone._

 

Eddie woke up with a frightened cry, his hair damp and shirt drenched in sweat. He covered his ears, desperate to block out the lingering threats that echoed in his mind. _‘It was just a dream. Only a dream,’_ he reminded himself, repeating it like a mantra over and over until he’d calmed down. He let out a sharp exhale and looked around the room casted in darkness. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it must be night. He cocked his head to the side, listening for any sounds, but the apartment was completely silent. ‘ _Chris is probably asleep then.’_ He rubbed his face tiredly, hating how his muscles were cramped up as if he’d been struggling in his sleep. He didn’t know why he dreamed of Benoit hurting him so callously. While it was true that he was starting to doubt that the Canadian didn’t do anything, there was no way his lover would have beaten him up like that. Right? His tongue darted out to lick the dry lips. _‘It was only a nightmare.’_ This past weekend had been stressful and the pizza he’d eaten earlier probably triggered his already wild imagination. That had to be it. He took his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor, and snuggled underneath the blankets. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, praying that his mind wouldn’t terrorize him anymore. 

 

Nobody seemed to hear his pleas.

 

_A steel-toed boot rammed into the soft flesh between his ribs and he cried out, coughing when blood welled up in his mouth. A thin spray of red coated the bathroom tiled floor._

__

 

_“Don’t you dare smart off at me! When I ask you to do something, I expect you to do it without sulking. You’re a goddamn adult, so act like one!”_

__

 

_The next kick, this time against the back of his head, made his vision go white and he scrambled away from the looming figure. He had one arm covering his chest protectively, his lungs spasming as he tried to suck in a breath. “I-I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice garbled from the earlier screaming._

__

 

_“You never learn, do you? When are you going to keep that fucking mouth shut?!”_

 

Eddie jerked awake right before the fist pummeled into his temple, panting raggedly into the cold air. His teeth rattled when he shove the sheets off, freezing despite the sweat sticking to his skin. _‘What the hell?’_ he thought, shocked at how the pain felt so real. It was as if he’d relived an old memory rather than experiencing a vivid dream, but there was no way it was possible. What would Benoit gain from lying to him about the beating? He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut to push away the invading images of blood and yelling. He really wished he could sleep normally like everyone else, instead of these horrible nightmares that left him breathless and full of fear. Legs shaking, he got out of the bed and stumbled into the hallway. It was probably in the middle of the night now, but he didn’t care. He tip toed into the master bedroom, relieved when he spotted Benoit passed out. He gingerly crawled into the bed, curling up next to his lover’s toasty body, providing refuge against the cold shivers racing up his spine. The Canadian suddenly shifted and he tensed up, but then Benoit started snoring softly. Eddie relaxed, nestled underneath the other man’s chin, pressed up against the broad chest. He felt marginally safer than he did in the empty guest room. Gradually, the adrenaline-boosted terror from his dreams faded and he fell into a peaceful slumber.

**  
  
**

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning was like a scene from one of his nightmares. Eddie woke up to find himself kicked out of the bed and onto the ground. His grogginess vanished instantly and he glanced up to Benoit glaring down at him. “Chris?” he asked quietly, not making any moves to stand up.

 

“What the fuck were you doing here?”

 

He frowned at the snarl. Benoit was loving and gentle last night. This sudden mood change was giving him whiplash. “Sleeping with you?” he replied, confused. Wasn’t that obvious?

 

“You were in the spare bedroom last I checked. What made you come in here?”

 

The brash accusatory growl made him flinch. “I had a bad dream and it s-scared me. I didn’t want to be alone,” he mumbled awkwardly, feeling humiliated at his childishness.

 

Chris stared disbelievingly at the latino and scoffed loudly. “You run away from me and act like I’m some kind of monster whenever I touch you, and yet you have one nightmare and the first thing you do is jump into my arms? You’re like a damn toddler, I swear.”

 

Eddie’s ears burned at the scathing remark and he averted his gaze. He didn’t understand his reactions either, but Benoit’s mocking didn’t help. “Los sientos.”

 

“Yeah, whatever. Come on, get up. Why are you sitting on the floor? You’re not a dog,” Chris muttered, yanking Guerrero up, the smaller wrestler cringing away from him when he grabbed a slim wrist. “Quit acting like I’m going to hit you.”

 

Eddie opened his mouth, about to say that Benoit did just practically shove him off the bed, but then he closed his jaw. He didn’t have the energy to fight so he swallowed his pride down. “Sorry.” All he seemed to be good at doing nowadays was apologizing.

 

“Just get ready. We need to catch the flight so we can arrive at work early. I need to clean your mess up,” Chris ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “You can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

 

Eddie knew the man was grouchy - Benoit never was a morning person - but he still blushed bright red at his disgrace, his throat closing up at the reminder he was nothing more than a stain in the room, taking up far too much space. He went to the bathroom, angling over the sink to splash cold water on his face, washing off the sweat and dried tears. _‘Have I been crying in my sleep?’_ He straightened up, looking into the mirror. He was surprised to find dark lines under his eyes. _‘Guess I didn’t get a good night of rest after all,’_ he mused dryly, remembering Benoit’s advice yesterday. He fixed his hair, taming the wild spikes from tossing and turning. Once he deemed his appearance appropriate for Raw, he returned to the bedroom, realizing that Benoit had already picked out his outfit.

 

A white button-up shirt with a faded pair of jeans laid on the now-made bed, black gym shoes on the footstool.

 

Eddie sighed, idly probing a bruise on his stomach, curious at the dull pain that arose at his touch. He tugged the pants on and put his arms through the shirt sleeves, doing the buttons. He sat down on the mattress to put his shoes on, tying the laces into neat knots. He really didn’t want to go with Benoit to work today, but he had the obligation to find out the results, especially considering that no one called them. That was the least he can do. He walked to the living room where Benoit was waiting by the front door.

 

“Hey there, slowpoke. You ready to head out? We’ll grab breakfast on the way,” Chris grunted, opening the door. He was eager to get to the office; the sooner they get answers, the better. Besides, he was getting tired of this facade, playing a game of house. But Guerrero was notably behaving somewhat well for the time being.

 

“Okay,” Eddie murmured, trudging after Benoit to the black Ford truck. He wasn’t hungry anyways. He clambered up in the passenger seat, sliding the seatbelt diagonally over his chest while his friend started the ignition. He waited for the familiar jolt of the vehicle backing up, but they remained stationary. He glimpsed to the driver’s side, realizing that Benoit was staring at him unblinkingly. It made his skin crawl. He couldn’t explain why, but the attention put him on edge. "Cariño“?” he prompted.

 

Thankfully, Benoit snapped out of his daydreaming. He blinked a few times and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Ed. I got distracted.”

 

“By what?” Eddie asked, bemused by the other wrestler’s unusual shyness.

 

“By you,” Chris replied softly, cupping the chicano’s cheek with his hand, brushing against the stubbles prickling his palm. “You’re just so damn beautiful. I’m sorry if you feel like I don’t appreciate you enough, but God, Eddie. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

 

Eddie can feel his face heating up at the compliments. Him, beautiful? More like he belonged in the trash can. Yet, he couldn’t stop the burst of warmth flooding through him. Benoit wasn’t yelling at him or calling him names, instead lavishing him with praises and touching him like he meant something to the Canadian. Would it be wrong for him to enjoy the moment? His eyes fluttered close when Chris leaned in to kiss him, soft lips embracing his own with a surprisingly etherealness. The kiss was chaste, short and sweet, and a small spark of disappointment flared up in him when Chris pulled away.

 

“I love you,” Chris purred, nuzzling his nose against the latino’s neck and smiling when his lover moaned at the ticklish tingles.

 

“Te amo,” Eddie sighed, already missing the contact once Benoit fully withdrew. As expected, his friend managed to erase his fear and doubt, for a little while at least. Again, the feeling of safety encompassed over him. He looked down in his lap when Chris grasped his hand, intertwining their fingers. He couldn’t help but marvel at the sight.

 

Did it make him a bad person for hoping he and Chris had a chance together in spite of everything that may had have happened in the past months? Was it such a horrible thing for him to wish for normalcy?

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Five hours later, they made it to the stadium Raw was at. Chris pulled the rental car into the parking garage, coming to a stop in the empty spot right next to the elevators. He turned the engine off and hopped out, the heels of his shoes slamming onto the cracked pavement. “Finally here,” he announced, stretching for a short moment.

 

Eddie wrapped his jacket more tightly around him, the chilled air making his breaths visible. “S-Si,” he muttered, his jaw chattering loudly. Even though they were in Arizona, he was still freezing in the warm temperatures of September. The airplane ride from Florida had been cumbersome with him being squished between Benoit dozing on his shoulder and an overweight 400-pound woman constantly shuffling against his other side. He could hardly breathe and it was an enormous relief when the flight was over. “Next time, I sit by the window,” he groused, going to the elevator to wait for the lift to arrive.

 

“Awe, somebody’s a sourpuss,” Benoit teased, massaging the smaller man’s shoulders.

 

“You would be too if you were sitting in the middle seat,” Eddie groaned, the stiffness disappearing under the kneading. “That feels good, cariño.”

 

Chris smirked at the soft exhale. “Don’t worry, we’ll have some fun later,” he cooed, burying a kiss in the dark hair.

 

Eddie didn’t catch on the suggestive undertone to the words, purring happily. It’d been a long time since Benoit gave him a back rub. He whined when the hands retracted away. “Meanie,” he grumbled, stepping through the doors when the elevator reached the garage level.

 

Chris pressed the ‘2’ button, remembering that McMahon was on the floor above the arena. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, winking playfully.

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he had to admit that it was nice to see Benoit in a good mood. He suddenly felt guilty for avoiding his partner all weekend. He shouldn’t had let a few bad dreams influenced his relationship.

__

 

_‘Are they really just dreams though?’_

 

He grimaced at the skeptical voice in his mind and then he remembered the phone call he had with Calaway yesterday.

 

_“Why would he hurt me?”_

__

 

_“I can’t tell you why, but I can promise you did not ‘imagine’ it.”_

 

He swallowed nervously, casting a fleeting glance at Benoit who was humming quietly. If the Undertaker was right and his memories were genuine, then Chris’ behavior was nothing more than an act to pull the wool over his and the bosses’ eyes. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t really blame the Canadian. Chris’ job was far more important than him.

 

The bell chimed once they reached their floor, and Eddie followed Benoit down the hall, his blissfulness dissipating. He decided he would ask questions after the meeting with Vince, and then he’ll know for sure which side of Chris was the real one.

 

Chris came to a halt in front of McMahon’s office. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the worst case scenario, and sent a quick prayer to the Heavens that he wouldn’t get creamed before knocking on the door.

 

There was no answer for a minute and he flashed a questioning look at Guerrero who was just as confused.

 

“Come in!”

 

He jumped at the booming voice, his heart hammering in his chest, and he pushed the door open. He tugged Eddie inside the CEO’s office with him, the elder man peering at them over the reading glasses.

 

“Ah, Chris and Eddie. I’ve been waiting for you two. Come closer,” Vince beckoned the men to his desk. He took his glasses off and put them away in the drawer. “Now, I’ve received the DNA results from Dr. Pike’s assault kit and it’s yours, Chris.”

 

“Well, that’s not really a surprise, sir,” Eddie blurted out, instinctively jumping to Benoit’s defense. Despite his misgivings, he wasn’t about to let Chris’ career go down the toilet, not without a fight.

 

Vince arched an eyebrow at the latino’s interruption. “Excuse me? Care to elaborate?”

 

“Um, me and Chris are in a relationship. We’ve been together for over a year and a half now, and we’re...uh...kinda intimate,” Eddie stammered, his cheeks turning pink and a furtive peek at Benoit told him that his lover was blushing too.

 

Vince only cleared his throat and folded his hands together. “I’ve had an inkling about the both of you, ever since I heard rumors from the grapevine. But what about the bruises the doctor wrote in his report?” he murmured.

 

Eddie bit on his thumb nail worryingly, hastily trying to come up with a believable excuse. “Well, I’ve had a few disagreements with a couple of co-workers and I got jumped a few months ago. It’s taking me a while to heal,” he lied.

 

“How come you didn’t file a complaint?”

 

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” he protested lightly.

 

Vince studied the wrestlers for several minutes, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “Anything to add, Benoit?”

 

Chris started, shaking his head. “Not particularly, sir, but I am concerned that Dr. Pike had to conduct an exam on Eddie,” he spoke quietly.

 

“John saw evidence of a sexual assault and so he responded accordingly,” McMahon pointed out, noticing the latino giving a brief flinch. It was subtle and he would had missed it if he wasn’t looking at Guerrero. “However, it may have been an honest mistake,” he conceded.

 

“So you’re not gonna do an investigation?” Eddie asked carefully, crossing his fingers behind his back.

 

Vince shook his head. “No, the doctor mentioned that you didn’t wish to press charges because this was a misunderstanding.”

 

Eddie’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Oh, thank Dios,” he sighed, feeling like all the stress was lifted off of him.

 

“Just be more careful in the bedroom,” Vince coughed, clearly embarrassed. “Now off you go.”

 

Both men left the office, the door closing shut behind them.

 

“I’m so proud of you, cheri. You did something right for once,” Chris cheered, hugging the chicano firmly.

 

Eddie let out a little laugh. “You should have more faith in me,” he teased, a smirk sliding across his face.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Chris groaned, pushing the younger man away. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

Eddie only stuck his tongue out.

 

“Hey, Chris!!”

 

They turned around at the excited shout, Batista bounding over to them.

 

“Hey, Animal. How are you?” Chris returned the greeting warmly.

 

“Just great! Boy, do I need your advice for something. It’s important.”

 

“Ask away, grasshopper,” Chris purred, amused at the Filipino wrestler’s enthusiasm.

 

Eddie backed away from the conversation, whispering discreetly to Benoit that he would be in the locker room. He had nothing against Batista, but he felt out of place, insignificant, between the two men. Both Chris and Dave were rising to the top while he was falling down the ladder. It hurt, but he can accept the truth. He walked to the men’s room, grateful to find it empty. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He shivered under the air conditioning blasting out of the vents, his eyes flickering over to the shower stalls. Perhaps taking one would warm him up and he didn’t think any of the other employees would walk in on him this early. He rummaged through Chris’ bag, pulling out the shampoo and conditioner bottles along with a towel. He took the stall farthest to the left, where he was least likely to be disturbed, and he closed the curtain. He shed his clothes off, bundling them up on a shelf so they wouldn’t get wet, and then he turned the shower on. Hot water streamed pleasantly over his frigid body and he relaxed, steam filling the stall. He lifted his chin, allowing the water to spray over his face. A soft sigh escaped past his parted lips as his seized muscles finally loosened. He knew he should be alert about Benoit, aware of the bruises that marked his skin, but the Canadian didn’t appear to be angry with him and he sincerely doubted Chris would bother him now in the lights of the good news.

 

Chris waved goodbye to Batista, trodding towards the backstage area. He looked quickly at his watch, shocked to realize that he’d spent fifteen minutes talking to Dave. He felt terrible for ignoring Eddie, but he also knew the latino wouldn’t be mad at him. _‘How many times did he keep me waiting?’_ He entered through the doors of the locker room, a brief flash of panic erupting in him when he didn't see his cheri until he heard the distinct sound of a shower running. He smiled to himself, slipping his socks and shoes off and sneaking down the stalls. One of the curtains wasn’t close all the way, and he peeked through, the familiar churns of longing drumming under his nerves at the sight of Eddie’s naked backside, wet and shimmering from the long bath. He watched his cheri cleanse, stunningly dark chocolate eyes half-closed in contentment, the tanned skin rippling with every graceful movement. He took his shirt off and yanked his jeans down, taking care to not make a sound, and then joined the chicano.

 

Eddie’s peaceful musing instantly evaporated along with the steam when he felt someone squeezing in the tiny stall, pushing him against the cold tiled wall. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed indignantly, terror strapping him of the warmth when he recognized Benoit, felt lecherous hands gripping his hips. A keening whimper ripped out of him and he shivered under the hot water. “What are you doing?” He half-hoped he was hallucinating. Chris wouldn't do anything to hurt him.

 

“I told you that we would have fun, didn’t I? With the bosses dropping the case, I figure we should celebrate,” Chris crooned, breathing in the scent of his lover, scraping his teeth along the back of the latino’s neck.

 

Eddie’s trembles worsened and he choked when Benoit’s crotch grind against his ass, feeling the hardening cock slap against his exposed flesh. He felt ill and he wanted out. “We can do this l-later. Not now, por favor,” he stammered, wiggling away from the wrestler’s unwelcomed advances.

 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Chris hissed, pinning the shorter man against the wall. “Stay still, unless you want me to take you dry. I’ll be quick,” he growled, slickening his erection with soap.

 

“No, Chris, please. I don’t want this, please don’t,” Eddie pleaded tearfully, shaking his head frantically. A tremor of fear ran down his spine when Benoit planted a knee between his legs, spreading him and leaving him ripe for taking. His hands scrabbled the wall, searching for something - _anything_ \- to give him purchase. “Chris, I said no,” he gasped helplessly, a last ditch attempt to stop this violation. “Please. I have stitches, you’re going to open them.”

 

“Sorry, Eddie. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tempting …. “

 

Eddie bit down, splitting his lip with the effort to hold back a wail when Benoit thrust into him, thick cock burning where it forced through the rigid muscles and rubbed against the stitches painfully. He shook as Chris stilled, adjusting to his tightness. “Please stop,” he begged, his voice quaking under the strain.

 

Chris snorted, pulling out only to ram his hips forward, his grip tightening on the slender waist. “Of course you would ruin the moment, huh?” he breathed, drawing back and thrusting forth again, slamming the smaller body against the wall. Eddie cried out, eyes squeezed shut as the water sprayed over their bodies flushed together. “Want to act like this isn’t you being a tease…”

 

Eddie shook his head in denial, whimpers slipping past his clenched teeth as Benoit set a punishing pace. He was held fast as Chris rutted up into him, short jerky thrusts sending waves of painful sensation through him.

 

Chris came with a moan, smashing Eddie onto the slippery wall yet again, as warm sticky seeds spilled into the shivering wrestler.

 

Eddie was pinned for several minutes, shuddering while icy numbness flooded through his veins even as Benoit’s unnaturally hot skin pressed against his back and the lukewarm water poured over him.

 

“You’re perfect,” Chris sighed, caressing the latino’s ass. “You’re so good to me.” He reluctantly moved away to get dressed.

 

Distantly, Eddie heard Benoit leave, footsteps fading from earshot as he crumbled on the floor, cheek resting by the drain, the water swirling around him. He wondered vaguely if he was in shock. It certainly felt like he was. While he was highly tempted to sleep and forget that this had happened, he had no desire to be caught by his co-workers, or worse, for Chris to return while he was still naked and defenseless. He would be easy picking. With trembling hands, he pushed himself off the ground and shut the water off. He groped blindly for the towel, drying himself and ridding the evidence of the encounter that trickled down between his thighs. Hazily, barely aware of his motions, he put his clothes on, limbs moving by rote memory as he dressed himself. He felt better to some degree now that he was clothed, but it did little to untwist the knots in his stomach. _‘This is my fault.’_ Somehow, he had inadvertently set Benoit upon him, parading around like a ‘tease’ as he was called. He shivered, wrapping the towel around him. He had to figure out what he’d done, so he could change it immediately to ensure he would be able to go about the rest of the day unmolested.

 

He exited the shower stall, walking shakily over to the locker area. He could feel the stitches pulling with every step he took and he cursed, hoping to Dios that they didn’t get torn. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Benoit packing the light blue duffle bag, fear leaving him paralyzed on the spot.

 

Chris smiled when he noticed Eddie staring at him. “Hey, cheri. Hope I wasn’t too rough,” he murmured, turning to face the pale latino. “I can’t really control myself around you. You’re just so...enticing.” The man truly was, with wet bangs dripping over the eyelashes. It would be a sin to not admire his lover's physique.

 

Eddie’s throat constricted, tears pooling in his eyes. “Wh-Why did you do that?” he croaked, backing away when Benoit started to head towards him.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“You said you would never hurt me.”

 

Chris sighed frustratingly, his cheerfulness disappearing. “Seriously? It’s not like you’re some fragile little girl, you can handle it,” he spat.

 

“But I told you no! I didn’t want it,” Eddie protested, crossing his arms to suppress another shiver.

 

A shadow fell upon Chris’ eyes and he scowled, towering over his traumatized friend. “What are you going to do about it? Go crying to the boss? Like he would believe you, they would just fire you and throw you out to the streets.”

 

Eddie flinched. He truly believed Benoit on that matter, but he was still in pain. “This past weekend, you said you’d never laid a hand on me. Was that a-a lie?” he whispered.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I h-have bruises and you said you never hit me.”

 

“I swear you may be the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met. I said that so the management wouldn’t get suspicious. It was all for show. Don’t forget that you got us into this mess in the first place,” Chris explained condescendingly.

 

“But why did you have to act like that to me as well? You could have just told me,” Eddie persisted, dismay clouding over him when he realized Mark was right.

 

“Because you would have fucked up. I can’t trust you to pull it off.”

 

“But we’re best friends,” Eddie mumbled pathetically. Benoit always seemed to know how to tear him down, to strip him to his very core.

 

“That’s funny,” Chris spoke, right after he hit Guerrero so hard in the face that it left a purpling discoloration.

 

“Chris,” Eddie complained, his voice now small.

 

“You always have to complicate everything, don’t you?” Chris barked, his gaze cold with rage.

 

Eddie could think of a few good things to throw back in the Canadian’s face, but he didn’t want to start a fire. He wanted to blow away the flames. “Maybe you should calm down, papi," he said warily.

 

“Or maybe I should teach you another lesson. It’s a long time coming, don’t you think?”

 

The threat stole Eddie’s breath away and his blood spiked. For some reason, he felt he should be armed with a gun.

 

But this was _Chris_. Chris, who he could trust, even if the man used that trust against him so often, to stab him in the back and….and…

 

“Stay away from me,” he warned, fear thick under his words. He wasn’t convinced that it would stop Benoit. It sure as hell didn’t in the shower. Why would Chris listen to him this time, with the locker room empty and the door closed, the entire floor still scarce with people so early in the morning? Even the footsteps sounded ominous as Benoit neared him. “Or...I’ll leave and I-I won’t come back.”

 

“You scared of me, cheri?” Chris sneered, curling his hands into fists.

 

“I don’t like this,” Eddie whined as his friend reached out of him. He felt so hollow and sore, and it was like his world was shattering all over again. Why did he believe that Benoit would be kind to him, to treat him like a decent human being, when he was clearly seen as nothing more than garbage?

 

Chris launched himself at the latino who shrank away from him. He got the smaller man into an armlock, bringing Guerrero crashing to the ground. “You can’t even fight properly,” he scoffed, grating the bones in Eddie’s right arm until they fractured. “Do you really think I’d let you leave me?”

 

A soundless scream rippled through Eddie when his arm broke, curling on the floor. He obscurely sensed Benoit standing up and kicking his side, jarring his cartilages. Then there was a punch to his face, a hard compressed blow striking his cheek. He cried out, spine arching painfully under the beating. A foot stomped on his throat, the windpipe giving away slightly under the weight, effectively cutting the noises off. Another kick, this time to his face, broke his nose, blood oozing down to drip onto the concrete ground. He coughed, bringing his one good arm to cover his mangled nose with a hand. He tried to speak, but his vocal cords were swollen shut from the stomp, throat thickened and congealed with blood. Everything felt inflamed, agony coursing through his system, and he couldn’t breathe. A fist to his temple made his ears ring and the edges of his vision started to fray, blackness hedging in.

 

He was sure that he’d finally done it, finally caused Benoit to snap and beat him to the death. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the Canadian’s shoe raise up and he braced himself, but the final blow never came.

 

He faintly heard shouting, loud and far away in his head, and felt someone grasping his crippled arm. He shrieked and recoiled away from the scorching pressure, the bones cracking under the touch.

 

“Oh, God.”

 

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place a name to the speaker. He attempted to crawl away, but the broken ribs robbed him of the oxygen he desperately needed and he collapsed on the floor with an anguished moan.

 

“Shh, don’t move, sweetie. You need a doctor. Please stay still.”

 

There was hushed mutterings and Eddie tried to focus on the words, but he could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness.

 

 

With a shaky breath, he let himself faded away into the welcoming darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You stand in the line just to hit a new low  
> You're faking a smile with the coffee you go  
> You tell me your life's been way off line  
> You're falling to pieces every time  
> And I don't need no carryin' on
> 
> Because you had a bad day  
> You're taking one down  
> You sing a sad song just to turn it around  
> You say you don't know  
> You tell me don't lie  
> You work at a smile and you go for a ride  
> You had a bad day  
> The camera don't lie  
> You're coming back down and you really don't mind  
> You had a bad day."
> 
> \- Bad Day by Daniel Powter


	29. Drain This Pain, Before I Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The reason why I wanna let all my deepest feelings out, is because they're the reason why I'm even here at all.  
> I hold my future tightly, I see what's ahead of me.  
> I can choose to save my dignity, or to be truly free.  
> The reason why I rid myself of these pointless memories, is because I feel limited by the hold they have on me.  
> You're staring at me through the window and I'm uncomfortable ...  
> It's as stupid as a calendar with no dates at all."  
> \- English 'Rewrite' Fullmetal Alchemist by DaaroVA  
> [ Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0bl3sRb4X0 ]

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

**  
**

 

Eddie was surprised when he struggled back to awareness. He honestly didn’t expect to wake up. He fought to remember what had happened, but he was in too much pain to process anything. _‘Why am I so sore?’_ The aches in his body was enough to make him scream, but then he found that he couldn’t talk, his throat working uselessly. He focused his eyes away from the overhead lights in the ceiling to a blurry figure next to him. He tried to lift his head, but he had no strength, the muscles in his neck trembling far too badly that all he could do was flop his head so that his cheek was resting on the pillow. Even that simple movement exhausted him and he felt woozy, his eyes falling shut again. He could hear multiple voices talking in the background, feeling like he should know who they were, but all the sounds were distant as if they were coming from a great deal away. He wanted to turn on his side so he could get more comfortable, but then he soon realized that he couldn’t move his arm, the limb being held in a sling hanging over his torso. His brows furrowed in consternation; he didn’t  know where he was, or why everything hurt, or who these people were. All he wanted to do was go home. Before he could try to talk again, his mind faded away back into unconsciousness, his brain deciding that his body needed more rest. Whatever had happened for him to end up in this state must had been pretty severe for him to shut down so soon after waking up.

 

The licensed practical nurse, Patricia, looked at the latino worryingly. The patient had been brought to the ER eight hours ago and still shown no signs of improvement, slipping in and out of awareness without giving a hint that he was alert. She adjusted the morphine levels and wrote on the chart for the man to stay overnight, casting a glance at the red-haired woman who had called 911. The younger woman had been in such a panic, from what Patricia was told by one of the EMT’s. _‘Poor thing. Finding your friend like that must have been traumatizing,’_ she thought sympathetically. She scratched her neck, still concerned about the chicano. Only time will tell if he’d heal or not, but she felt so helpless in this situation. “Come back to us soon,” she murmured softly, petting the damp hair away from the forehead, hating the sight of the patient so pale and lifeless. “You have people waiting for you.”

**  
**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**  
**

_Friday, September 24, 2004_

**  
**

 

 

The next time Eddie woke up, there was a person leaning over his slackened body. He reacted instinctively before he could think, tensing and attempting to curl into a ball. He couldn’t understand why, but he thought he was in danger. He started choking fearfully, legs squirming to try and push away, but his arm got caught in the sling and his blind panic worsened.

 

“Eddie, it’s okay. Please calm down, it’s only me. It’s Amy”

 

His movements halted at the quiet reassurances, his view stabilizing until he saw Lita peering at him anxiously. He called her name, but nothing came out. He went rigid, eyes widening when he still can’t speak. _‘What?!’_ He’d thought it was some surreal dream his pain-idled mind had conjured up during those hazy moments where he’d alternated between blackness and light. His throat seized up, blocking vital oxygen from reaching his spasming lungs. His free hand flailed around aimlessly, grasping uselessly in the air before his fingers found purchase in the flimsy material of the hospital sheets. He vaguely sensed Lita reaching out for him and touching his shoulder, and his body moved on its own accord, flinching away violently and hunching inwardly. He couldn’t explain why his brain perceived her out of all people as a threat, but right now, it was next to impossible to think rationally while he was in the middle of freaking out.

 

“Shhh, it’s alright. You’re safe. No one can hurt you, I promise. Just don’t try to talk. The doctors say you have laryngitis. You won’t be able to speak for a while,” Lita soothed, gnawing on her lip. She didn’t say exactly why the latino had laryngitis, her eyes flickering down to the patch of bandages wrapped around the bruised neck. She’d tried not to take it personally at how hysterically her best friend had reacted to her presence, but every nerve in her screamed at how _wrong_ it was for Eddie to be so afraid of her.

 

Eddie’s mouth clamped shut in one thin line, trepidation causing his heart to beat faster. Bright spots cluttered the edges of his vision, and the sterile too-clean smell of the room threatened to suffocate him. He gulped in a deep breath and gestured frantically for a piece of paper. The diva complied and gave him a notepad along with a red-inked pen. His fingers shook as he wrote down a question and showed it to her, holding the notepad unsteadily.

 

‘Why am I in the hospital?’

 

The corners of Lita’s eyes pinched and she inhaled softly. “You don’t remember?” she said carefully. Perhaps she shouldn’t be that surprised and in a way, she was slightly relieved. Now if only she could forget what she’d seen in the locker room.

 

Eddie frowned at the lack of response from the diva and scribbled down another question, showing the paper again.

 

‘Did I get hurt in a match?’

 

He wasn’t expecting the pitying gaze from the brunette. For a bizarre reason, that look brought up an old memory that’d been stored in the back of his mind for who knows how long. The flashback wasn’t exactly … articulated, some of the forms fizzing out like static, as if it was some sort of distorted afterimage. What stood out in his frayed mind didn’t even make sense to him at all; gravely words spoken in a honeyed voice, hot breath in his ear tinged with the smell of alcohol, and large hands holding him down while water streamed over him. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why the sympathy on Lita’s face triggered something so pointless and irrelevant. He had bigger things to worry about, such as why his arm was broken.

 

“Oh, I wish you were.”

 

He squinted at the answer, peering at Lita. He couldn’t even process the quiet statement, his brain too tired to analyze what she’d said.

 

“Just don’t worry about it, that’s not important right now. You’ve been here for a little over three days now. They had to keep you in some kind of coma because your injuries w-were bad,” Lita broke off, clenching her jaw and exhaling harshly as she stared sorrowfully at the morphine drip bag. The wrestler was clean and patched up, but she could still remember all the blood she saw when she’d ran into the locker room on Monday. She’d thought the chicano was dead because she couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not …

 

She never thought she would be alleviated when Eddie had screamed in response to her grabbing the mangled arm, but the relief didn’t last long; he’d passed out cold almost instantly. The ambulance ride was the most heartstopping experience she’d ever been through, and now that the worst of it was behind them, she had to reconcile with the fact her best friend was in a relationship fraught with domestic violence, who was almost _killed_ by his partner. She would never had dreamed that Chris was capable of such atrocity, but clearly she was wrong and Eddie had paid the price for her ignorance. She got disrupted out of her musings when a nurse came in.

 

“Sorry, miss, but we have to redo his bandages.”

 

She nodded her head and stepped out of the way to allow the RN go over to Guerrero. “I’ll be back, Ed. I gotta talk to someone, okay?” she called out, turning on her heels to leave the room.

 

Eddie tensed up when the nurse - _‘Hannah’_ he noted the name tag absently - came closer to him, his face paling when she snapped on latex gloves.

 

_Expert hands forced his legs apart, a metallic cold steel pressing in and the tip of a needle entering him. His breaths were visible and there was a faint aroma of iron tinging the air while sounds of scraping filled the room._

 

He recoiled away from Hannah the moment she touched the tapes on the side of his head, a muted scream ripping his already shredded vocal cords in an involuntary attempt to announce his disapproval. He shifted away, desperately trying to get out of the nurse’s reach, his eyes darting everywhere and his blood racing through his veins. Faintly, he realized he could hear a distant beeping noise, but he deemed it unimportant, fighting to get away from the invasive touches, the wired monitors pulling painfully on his heaving chest while he tried to roll off the bed.

 

“Sir, please stop it! I don’t want to have to sedate you, but I will if I have to!”

__

 

_“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to put you in your place. It’s your choice.”_

 

Eddie went rigid, gasping. In his sudden vulnerability, he felt a sharp prick in his shoulder, glancing over in time to see Hannah pushing the sedative in.

 

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

__

 

_“Sorry but you asked for it.”_

 

Before he could remember whose voice that was, his eyes fell shut and he went limp on the cot.

**  
**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

__

_Sunday, September 26, 2004_

**  
**

 

 

“What the hell happened? Por qué es Eddie en el hospital? Chris le dolía otra vez?”

 

Lita jolted from where she was staring in her coffee mug in the cafeteria. She rubbed her face tiredly and straightened up to see Rey in front of her, visibly agitated. She’d sent him a text a couple of days ago when Eddie had finally came back to the living world, but the masked man never replied so she’d incorrectly assumed that he’d never got it. “It’s a long story, you might want to sit down,” she spoke, pushing out the chair opposite of her with a foot.

 

Rey hesitated and then took Amy’s advice, scooting over to clasp his hands on the table. He’d drove at breakneck speed from California to get here, and with the adrenaline pumping through his muscles, he wouldn’t have been able to stand still regardless.

 

“I went to RAW earlier this week because I had an invitation from Matt to oversee one of his matches. I didn’t have any plans and the company didn’t have me scheduled in, so I figured why the hell not, you know? Anyways, I was walking down the hall and I heard screamings from the locker room. I went to go check it out and …” she paused, taking a moment to make sure she didn’t break down in the middle of this - still haunted by the ghastly images. “I walked in and….Chris was kicking Eddie on the ground. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what to do. Then someone shoved me aside and stopped Chris, yelling at him to get himself together. That’s when I snapped out of it and I went to Eddie. God, Rey, I thought I was too late,” her voice cracked.

 

Rey was still, too shocked to even say anything. Then he finally found the words to ask, “Who held Chris off?” He couldn’t believe his hermano was wounded again by the bastardo.

 

“Oh, that was Calaway."  
  


 

“Calaway? The Undertaker? What was he doing there, I thought he was on SmackDown?” he sputtered, thrown off by the dismissed wave of hand.

 

“Well, he visits to see Kane a lot. He’s backstage on RAW almost every week,” Lita explained, tilting her head. She could have sworn that it was common knowledge.

 

Rey fish faced for a couple seconds before throwing his arms up in exasperation. “Okay then, but how much longer will Ed be here?”

 

“The broken arm and ribs will take a while to heal, not to mention he won’t be able to talk, but I think he’ll be discharged in a day or two since he’s been here for almost a week now,” Lita replied guardedly.

 

“Really? That’s a relief. He’ll be back to his old self in no time,” Rey sighed, the stress being lifted off his shoulders slightly. While he was furious that his friend was injured, the fact the other latino would be healed soon did lessen the anger just slightly.

 

Lita fastened her mouth shut, pink lips in one thin line. _‘I have to tell him. He deserves to know.’_ But she didn’t even know how to begin. How do you tell someone that a fellow wrestler you both care deeply for had been sexually abused as well? She’d found out herself by pure accident, unintentionally eavesdropping on a conversation between a nurse and one of the physicians.

 

_“Sir? There’s something on his medical records about being treated for assaults. Should we check the stitches?”_

__

 

_“Probably a good idea, Johnson. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some lacerations down there. It’s quite common, and if his files are anything to go by, we can certainly expect some damage.”_

 

Eddie had been abused for weeks, possibly months, without telling any of them about it. She felt sick. “It won’t be as easy as that,” she rasped.

 

“Huh?” Rey said dumbly, appraising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

 

Lita closed her eyes and dipped her chin down so that her long red hair fell over in front of her face, shielding her expression. “Chris hurt him in more ways than one Not all of his injuries are a result of physical violence,” she mumbled, crossing her arms as a shiver rippled through her.

 

“I don’t understand?”

 

She repressed the urge to throttle Mysterio. _‘Must all men be so dense?’_ she cursed. “The doctors had to redo his sutures because he was violated, Rey,” she stated flatly.

 

An eon of silence enveloped between them. She was expecting rage, threats to destroy Benoit. She was bracing herself for yellings and promises for revenge.

 

When she looked up from behind her bangs, she wasn’t prepared for the sight of tears pouring down his face.

 

“W-Why? Why did this have to happen? Are you sure this wasn’t some kind of mistake?” Rey whispered. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He knew Chris had a temper problem, but he wouldn’t have ever thought the Canadian would cross the line.

 

“I wish, but it’s true. God, I wish I was wrong.”

 

His eyes slammed shut, horror whipping through him. “But why? He doesn’t …. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t deserve that, so why…? Why did this have to happen to him?”

 

Lita looked away, unable to witness Mysterio falling apart when she could barely hold herself together. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “He’s in room 221 in the south wing if you want to see him. Just don’t...don’t touch him. It scares him.”

 

That was the final straw for Rey and he escaped out of the cafeteria, burning tears scorching his cheeks. The other chicano was known for being affectionate, hugging other people - who was now rendered frightened by contact. _‘Now that is wrong on so many levels.’_ He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he’d subconsciously walked to Eddie’s room. He quickly stepped inside, brushing past the drawn curtains. His heart was wrapped in a vice, squeezing mercilessly when he saw his best friend in a deep slumber on the bed. The wrestler’s face was pinched slightly, in pain even while asleep. It was enough to stricken Rey and he backed out in the hallway unsteadily. He remembered telling Eddie months ago to leave Benoit, trying to warn the older latino of the Canadian’s unhealthy treatment. _‘Why didn’t I try harder?’_ he chastised himself, dismayed. He should had pushed Guerrero harder, but instead, he’d given up and turned a blind eye. _‘I’m a horrible person.’_ He was nauseous, stumbling to the elevators and hitting the button to take him to the parking lot. He didn’t feel worthy enough to stay.

 

Not when he was partially responsible for Eddie ending up like this.

**  
**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

__

_Monday, September 27, 2004_

**  
**

 

 

 

A sharp jab of pain woke Eddie up and he flinched from the needle piercing the skin of his biceps. Coppery taste tinged with iron filled his mouth and a dry retch spilled out of him, straining his pharynx. He fumbled in the cot, tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t know what was going on; why there were bright lights on him or why gloved hands were pinning him down, but he was terrified and wanted out.

 

“Stay still!”

 

The order caused him to freeze and he went limp under the hold, an apology dying out in his throat. He blinked owlishly when a stern-looking older man with graying blond hair glared at him.

 

“Don’t cause us any troubles, Mister. We’re trying to help you and you aren’t making our jobs any easier.”

 

He averted his gaze, bowing meekly and trembling from the glower.

 

“Will we have any more problems from you?”

 

_Sharp nails dug into his jaw, yanking his face up at an uncomfortable angle._

__

 

_Icy blue eyes, tinted with righteous fury, bore into his bones, leaving him breathless._

__

 

_“Try that again, and trust me, your problems will be more than a slap, understand?”_

 

Eddie swallowed, his forehead damp with perspiration, and he shook his head. The flashbacks still occurred out of nowhere, little odd snippets that resulted in him being cold with fear. He still couldn’t decipher what they meant.

 

“Good. We’ll be back in two hours to give you another shot,” the doctor muttered, throwing his gloves in the trash can and leaving the room, a nurse trailing behind him.

 

Eddie shrank further into the bed, feeling sore despite being bedridden all week. His eyelids became heavy and he struggled to keep them open. Even though he slept most of the time, he was debilitated whenever he was awake; he was lucky if he could stay up for a hour or more. He tried to scratch his itching nose, but when he tried to bring his hand up, it wouldn’t budge. He glanced over to his side, staring at the restraint that tied his wrist to the bed rails.

 

_“Why don’t we try a little bit of bondage, hm? It could be fun.”_

__

 

_Thick strands of rope chafed his wrists as he was cuffed to the headboard, scents of beer and musk wafting over his naked body as a shadow loomed over him, his legs being pried apart._

 

He stiffened and dug his head further onto the pillow, shutting his mind away from the unpleasant pictures. Was it too much to ask for one day without being tormented by his own brain?

 

A quiet knock made him jump and he opened his eyes to see Lita carrying a plastic bag over to him.

 

“Hi, sweetie. I brought you a present,” she murmured, smiling softly as she took out a pint of ice cream. “It’s your favorite; Ben and Jerry’s Mint Chocolate.”

 

Eddie beamed, his face lighting up with excitement as he hurriedly sat up straighter.

 

Lita spotted the restraint around the latino’s hand and she grew pissed. “What’s wrong with the staff? Why did they tie you up?” she grumbled, stalking to the side of the bed. She didn’t miss the way Eddie withdrew from her, eyes widening in distrust when she grasped the cuffs, his entire body scooting away from her until he was dangling at the edge of the cot. She pushed the hurt down, undoing the restraint until the wrestler’s hand was free. “There, now you can eat.”

 

Eddie didn’t know why, but he was flabbergasted when the diva walked away. He didn’t think she wouldn’t take advantage of him. _‘Who would blame her?’_ He was easy prey. Then he started, frowning at himself. Why was he acting like this? Of course Lita wasn’t going to hurt him -- they were friends. Friends don’t hurt each other.

 

_“Do you really think your friends care about you? If they saw you behaving like some whiny brat like this, they would laugh and ask me to teach you a lesson. No one wants to deal with a baby.” Harsh growls rumbled in his ear as a knee dug into the small of his back, his cheek rubbing on the wooly carpet._

__

 

_“Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”_

 

“Eddie?” Lita prompted, her brows furrowing in concern. She didn’t particularly like the faraway look in the chestnut eyes.

 

Eddie snapped out of his daze, meeting the worried golden brown gaze, slightly grateful that Lita pulled him back to the present moment. Sweat trickled down from his hairline as his breathing slowly returned to normal, his hand relaxing from where he’d gripped the sheets.

 

“You okay, hon?”

 

He nodded shakily, exhaling silently. The pint was placed between his elbow and side, and the spoon on top of the lid. He studied the ice cream for a minute before he opened the box wit his good hand, dipping the plastic utensil in.

 

Lita took out a chair, moving it near the bed so she can sit next to Eddie, but not so distressingly close that the latino felt threatened. She wasn’t going to push her luck; she knew she was on thin ice here with his lack of trust, and giving him the much needed space was the best thing she can do.

 

Eddie was on his fifth spoonful of mint chocolate, enjoying the light and creamy taste that soothed his ragged throat, when he felt the heavy weight of Lita’s attention on him. He spared a brief glimpse up, spoon still in his mouth.

 

Lita was looking at him. Her eyebrows were raised, but slightly creased, lips pursued. He tried to deduce her expression - raised eyebrows … was she surprised? Crease … was she confused? Frustrated? Pursued lips … was she concentrating? Or holding back a comment? Eddie was at a loss. He’d seen that expression directed at him before, that puzzled inquisitive look that always appeared without warning. He didn’t know what he’d done, or what Lita was seeing.

 

He cocked his head curiously, dragging the tip of his tongue over the spoon to sweep up a patch of ice cream he had missed. Lita blinked rapidly, her mouth dropping open slightly like she was about to say something, but then she shut it with an audible snap and her jaw clenched as she gritted her teeth. Her gaze fell down to her lap, fiddling her hands. “Sorry, I was thinking,” she muttered sheepishly.

 

Eddie was unsure what had captivated her scrutiny, but he let it go, too exhausted to bother figuring out the enigma behind Lita’s fascination. He finished eating the rest of the Ben and Jerry’s pint, putting the empty container away and wiping his mouth with his arm. He felt lethargic, ready to take another nap, but then he recalled something that had been bugging him for a while now. Reluctantly, he picked up the notepad and pen from the tray that was attached to the bed.

 

Lita hated being flustered, hated the way her face turned pink. This wasn’t the time for her feelings to sidetrack her. A tapping noise caught her ears and she perked up, realizing Eddie was showing her a question with an impatient glare.

 

‘Why hasn’t Chris stopped by yet?’

 

She winced, uneasiness churning in her stomach. She should had been expecting this, that the chicano would wonder about Benoit. “He’s not coming,” she answered tersely, regret slamming into her at how Eddie looked so hurt, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

 

‘But why? Did I upset him?’

 

That was the final nail, the break in the dam. Her hands curled into fists and she took in a deep breath. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s complicated,” she muttered, struggling to keep a tab on her emotions. She can’t afford to lash out. It would only do more harm than good.

 

‘Then why won’t he visit?’

 

“Because he’s the reason you’re here!”

 

Eddie jerked back, the shout making him drop his pen. His eyes dilated, his lower lip trembling. He didn’t understand - couldn’t comprehend Lita’s words. He had no memories of what’d happened before he woke, and the peculiar flashbacks that plagued him didn’t help the situation either. But there was absolutely no way in hell that Chris was responsible for this, any of this. His cariño wouldn’t injure him, wouldn’t break his arm. Surely, Lita was mistakened.

 

“I thought you were dying, Ed. You were pissing blood for three days and you wouldn’t wake up. I thought I was going to lose you,” Lita confessed, her voice raw and broken and tears prickling behind her eyes. “I’m not letting Chris in here. Not when he almost killed you.” She stood up from the chair and grabbed the spoon along with the ice cream box. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throwing them in the trash and leaving.

 

Eddie shuddered, burrowing under the blankets. He was confused at the misery under Lita’s tone and she’d left before he could try to write down another question. Losing his voice was beyond frustrating and he wanted to cry at the injustice of it all.

 

“Mr. Guerrero? It’s Alex, time for a bath.”

 

He flinched at the unexpected speaker, peeking up from where he was hiding underneath the covers. The nurse had walked in the small room, opening the curtain blinds to allow the light from the sun spill in. This was a daily routine; the black haired man came over once a day to help him clean up and change the bandages on his lower body. It was an unpleasant ordeal, but there wasn’t much he could do to avoid it.

 

Alex took the sling down, gingerly lowering the arm and unhooking the monitors. “Don’t worry about anything. It’ll be a quick bath and change, and then you can sleep. Alright?”

 

Eddie shied away when the other man pulled the sheets down, the thin hospital gown providing little protection against the chill of the A/C. He loathed being this exposed. He was pushed up into a sitting position, his legs being lifted over until his bare feet brushed against the cold tiles.

 

“Ready to stand?”

 

He didn’t give any indications, instead clutching the nurse’s forearm tightly in hopes that it’ll soothe his anxiety. It was embarrassing and he wished he could wither away from the sheer indignity.

 

“Easy. I got you.”

 

The soft reassurances disgusted him and he recoiled slightly away from Alex as they slowly walked to the washroom across the bed. He narrowed his eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights that made his headache worse. The nurse took his gown off and he shivered, goosebumps prickling all over him. The sound of water turning on spiked his blood pressure, his heart pounding almost painfully. It was stupid, but water freaked him out ever since he woke up from the induced coma. He didn’t know why. Come to think of it, there was a lot of things that he didn’t know.

 

“Step in. It’s warm.”

 

He complied, trembling when he settled in the tub, closing his eyes against the warmth. The rising steam increased his panic and he curled up slightly, his broken arm cradling against his chest. _‘Breathe. Just breathe.’_

__

 

_“Stay still, unless you want me to take you dry.”_

 

He blanched, panting raggedly as he stared at his reflection in the rippling water.

 

“Sir? Sir, you okay?”

 

He couldn’t fucking breathe. He didn’t even feel Alex pulling him out of the ceramic cauldron, a towel draped across his waist as he was laid down on the floor with two fingers pressed firmly against the throbbing carotid artery. His senses sputtered in and out of awareness as everything spiraled out of control.

 

“Sir, please breathe. You’re going to go into cardiac arrest if you continue like this.”

 

_Hot blinding pain skewered through him when something hard breached in, aches burning him as he was slammed into a wall._

__

 

_“Sorry, Eddie. Maybe if you weren’t so damn tempting …”_

__

 

_A screamed ripped out of him, his entire frame rocking back and forth, his vision blurred by the pouring water and tears mixed together. It hurt so bad, he wanted to die just so he couldn’t feel anymore._

 

The last thing he heard before he shut down was Alex yelling.

 

  
“Do you hear me? Goddammit. Code red, somebody bring me a crash cart! Stay with me, Mister!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to be much longer, but I split it off into two parts because y'all know how much I love cliffhangers ;)


	30. Breaking the Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Little by little, bit by bit, picked away at shackled chains. I know that life is based on making mistakes and that's supposed to be okay. But still, with every breath I gasp for, I feel like reality is so merciless, it makes you want to scream in frustration." - FMA Doujinshi 'Traumerei'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some really heavy stuff in this chapter. If you're suffering depression, please be careful because while my writing isn't that great, I don't want you to risk being triggered. x bless x 
> 
>  
> 
> \- - - 
> 
> PSA: Another playlist for this fic is available on 8tracks at [[ http://8tracks.com/synystermoxley/blurred-lines-p-3 ]]

* * *

* * *

 

 

_Wednesday_

_September 29, 2004_

 

 

 

 

 

__

The blue skies and the warm sunshine were a false pretense, hiding the grief underlying the shadows of the two wrestlers in a familiar condo, once full of love and friendship, now haunted with tragedy.

 

“I still don’t get it.”

 

Lita looked up from where she’d been folding flannel shirts and jeans into a box labeled ‘clothes.’ Her smaller friend was staring at an old picture frame. It was a group photo of all of them together at a concert -- Eddie and Chris grinning like dorks with her and Edge making gagging faces and pointing at the couple, Dawn and Rey linking arms and pretending to be on a date. It was taken three months ago. Seeing it now broke her heart, knowing that the happiness was merely an illusion. “Don’t get what?” she asked, even though she knew what Rey was referring to.

 

“I mean, I know that they were having some issues, but I never thought it was this bad. They were, like, almost this perfect couple….but I just don’t understand how Eddie could have hide this for so long,” Rey rambled, the urge to smash the picture washing over him. He still hadn’t been able to get past the gravity of the violence and abuse behind the seemingly happily-ever-after that Eddie and Chris had so deceptively painted. He wished he knew why his best friend had lied and kept all the bruises and pain a secret from everyone.

 

“Well, neither of us were in a relationship like theirs, so we can’t really ever understand because we never been through it,” Lita murmured, the words an echo of Mark’s when she had approached him a couple of days ago. She was slightly disgruntled to learn that Calaway had more of an insight than she did -- the fact that Eddie trusted the Undertaker more -- and it was a blow, but she had pushed her hurt feelings aside. It wasn’t time to air her own trash.

 

Rey stayed silent. Logically, he knew Lita was correct, but he simply couldn’t wrap his head around the whole nightmare. He sighed and dumped a few books into a tote, closing the lid on top.

 

“I think we got everything,” Lita declared, surveying the living room. They had five boxes and three containers between them, grabbing Eddie’s belongings from the closets and storage. She’ glanced down at the key on the counter next to her hand. She’d gotten it from Eddie’s bag this morning in the hospital room. She still hadn’t told her friend that he was being moved out, instead opting to pack up the man’s stuff while they had the chance. The arguments can be saved for a later time, and yet she still felt guilty for going behind Eddie’s back. _‘He’s had enough betrayals to last him a lifetime,’_ she thought sullenly. “Let’s put them in the car,” she mumbled, picking up two of the heavy boxes stacked on top of each other and making her way out to the driveway where she’d parked the van.

 

Rey followed the diva, casting a disgusted look at the condo. The whole place seemed to be stained with darkness despite the bright day outside. He was glad to leave.

 

They’d just put the last crate in when a sound of a vehicle grew louder until a black Ford truck pulled up by the curb.

 

“When the hell did he get out of jail?” Rery hissed angrily at Lita, throwing a furious glare at the driver stepping out of the car and walking towards them. He growled low in his throat, hackles raising as all of his fury reached a breaking point.

 

“Easy, tiger. County jail can only hold him up to a week since Eddie and the company didn’t press charges,” Lita cautioned, another of regret piercing her when she realized that she hadn’t told her best friend about Benoit being arrested. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the two men as a heated confrontation loomed over them. As if on cue, the clouds filtered across the sun and darkened the sky an ominous gray.

 

“What are you guys doing?” Chris asked, frowning in confusion when he noticed the totes and boxes in the rental. He’d been taken into custody last week when Mark had called the cops on him. Spending the past several days in jail cleared his mind and the rage that was clouding his judgment had dispersed, being replaced with overwhelming horror. He couldn’t believe that he’d put Eddie in the hospital again and he wished he could beat himself up for being such an irresponsible asshole.

 

“None of your fucking business!”

 

“Rey!” Lita snapped and then took a deep breath, facing the Canadian. “It’s not safe for Eddie to stay with you so we packed his things. He’ll be with someone else,” she explained softly.

 

“And just what the hell do you think you are? Attacking Eddie like that? Pensé que lo amaba!” Rey interjected, ignoring a warning jab in his ribs from Lita who elbowed him.

 

Chris bowed his head, shame reeking off of him. “I wish I had the answer, but the truth is I don’t know. I’m so messed up in the head,” he replied quietly.

 

Rey narrowed his eyes, the older man’s honesty doing nothing to soothe the raging fire burning inside him. He couldn’t stand how this bastardo was walking around free while Eddie was in intensive care. Especially when his fellow latino nearly suffered a heart attack. He still remembered the fear that wreathed around him when he was told the news. He’d almost lost his best friend because of this pendejo. He lashed out, vaguely sensing Lita holding him back and yelling at him to calm down. “You stay away from him, you hear me! You don’t deserve him!” he screeched, face completely red as all reason left him. “You even lay one finger on him and I will fucking _kill_ you! Te copio su puta columna de su garganta!” It wasn’t an idle threat that people often make when irritated. It wasn’t even a blustering and furious but empty exclamation that would never really happen no matter how desired. It was a statement of fact, a cold and clear promise. His vengeance will be merciless, unrelenting, and deadly.

 

And Chris should be very, _very_ afraid.

 

In the midst of the turmoil, Chris remained calm. Mysterio’s shouting was nothing compared to the loathing voice whispering in the back of his mind -- he’d already sought for punishment and now the best way he can help his cheri was to stay here. He had no intentions of testing the boundaries and he had no doubt that the thrashing man before him was bluffing should he ignore the threats.

 

Lita shoved Rey into the passenger seat of the van. “Shut up and chill the fuck out, you’re making it worse,” she ordered with a huff, reaching the end of her rope. She understood Rey’s anger, hell she’d felt it, but acting on it will only cause more problems in the long run. She slammed the door shut and let out an exhale, forcing herself to regain her composure before speaking to the Canadian again. “Sorry about that, but …. I’m going to have to ask you to not come near Eddie. He needs to heal and you’ll just further traumatize him. You do realize that, right?”

 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” Chris murmured almost inaudibly. He didn’t see the surprised look on the brunette’s face as he kept his gaze downcast. He was a monster, and to protect Eddie, he would have to stay away until he got his head on right.

 

“I hope you keep your word. No offense, but I can’t trust you anymore. Not after what you’d done,” Lita said, turning around and walking to the driver side.

 

Chris stepped out of the way and watched the vehicle back out of the driveway and head off down the street. Once the white van was out of view, he glanced at the condo, a gaping abyss of loneliness filling the void in his chest.

 

_‘I have to make this right again…’_

__

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_Monday_

_October 04, 2004_

 

 

There were nighthawks loitering around on the windowsill outside and Eddie watched the birds dully, noting with disinterest at how the larger puffier female pushed the male one off, a streak of brown and gray disappearing. His eyes trailed over to the barren room where he’d been staying for a couple weeks now. His only visitors were Lita and Mark. He was a little disconcerted that Rey-Rey hadn’t stopped by yet, but he was reassured by both friends that it wasn’t personal. He wasn’t hurt, only confused, but he hadn’t pressed the topic. He glanced at his arm that was resting against his chest, no longer in an overhead sling. The nurses had taken it down a few days ago, but while he was much more comfortable, the change did little to distract him from the nightmares plaguing his mind. The flashbacks had increased in frequency, growing more vivid now that his memories returned to him after his panic attack in the bathroom last week. He absently tugged on the IV in the inside of his wrist, letting out a soft sigh. He wasn’t as freaked out anymore compared to when he had amnesia, but having a face and a name to the shadowy figure attacking him didn’t make him feel any better. He had no idea what to do with this new source of information; he was stuck in the hospital and some voice in his head kept muttering that if he didn’t leave soon, Chris will find him and finish up what the Canadian had started. The slight paranoia wasn’t helping the situation at all and he fidgeted nervously on the cot. Perhaps he had it coming -- Benoit would be in the right since he fucked up everything as usual, but he didn’t want to go through all the pain again. He was done.

 

He stilled, contemplating the monitors with a calculating frown. He’d watched the RNs adjust the machines many times; maybe he could turn the volume off so when he took the wires and stickers off, the hospital wouldn’t be alerted. It should be easy enough -- he could be out of this hell hole in less than five minutes, granted that he didn’t lose his footing or run into the staff. Hesitantly, he reached out towards the monitor closest to him, his index finger hovering over a series of buttons as he tried to figure out which to push.

 

“Hey, Eddie! I got hot chocolate for you!”

 

He froze at the new voice echoing in the room and he looked over his shoulder to see Lita barging in with a cheerful grin, carrying a white styrofoam cup.

 

Her eyebrows creased when she saw Eddie leaning partially out of the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously, tilting her head to the side as she regarded the latino.

 

Eddie settled back into the position he’d been sitting in; half-slouching with his knees raised slightly up. “Nothing,” he whispered. He’d slowly regained his ability to talk, but he couldn’t do more than a murmur. His throat would get swollen if he spoke too long.

 

Lita was overwhelmed with relief at the sound of Eddie’s voice. She had missed the familiar accented rumble. She moved the guest chair closer to the cot, handing the cup to Eddie who took it with a grateful smile. She then plopped down on the cushion with a loud grunt, stretching her sore muscles. The drive to Rey’s apartment, which happened to be so conveniently located at the border between Arizona and California, was long and horrendous with the traffic constantly coming to a standstill every ten to fifteen minutes. At one point, it took them over a hour to creep past five miles. She’d decided to take the plane back to here. It was expensive, but at least she returned much more quickly than she would have if she drove. “What’s new?” she joked, knowing perfectly well how boring it was to be stuck in a place when being on the road was as natural as breathing.

 

Eddie spared the diva a withering glare at the lighthearted jab. He picked up the notepad and began writing, adding a last sloppy scrawl before showing the paper to Lita.

 

‘I dunno. How’s sleeping in Holiday Inn’s working out for you?’

 

Lita scowled at the mischief sparkling behind the soft brown eyes, but she had to confess that it was wonderful to see her friend looking more and more like his old self compared to when she visited him last time. It gave her hope that Eddie wasn’t broken beyond repair. “Better than having needles sticking into me,” she spat good-naturedly, flashing the latino a teasing smile to soften the barb behind her words.

 

It went on like this for a while, the two of them exchanging a few more mocking questions and then moving on to gossip. Lita revealed to Eddie that Dawn Marie had developed a crush on Rikishi and she couldn’t stifle a smile when Eddie did a double take and started laughing, almost spilling the hot chocolate. The wrestler returned the favor by telling her about the fire alarm yesterday that was triggered when one of the patients decided to microwave silverware in order to hear the ‘true voice of God.’ Her sides ached as the giggles overtook her, stealing her breaths as tears streamed down her cheeks while she struggled to calm down. It’d been far too long since the both of them were able to hang out and have fun, and her heart throbbed almost painfully. She’d missed those days and would do anything to have them back.

 

Eddie further relaxed as he and Lita continued to talk, the sky slowly bleeding orange and red when the sun embarked its way down the horizon. He was happy to spend time with Lita, but the sneer that had been nagging him insistently for the past few minutes was growing louder and increasingly angrier.

 

_‘What are you doing? You don’t deserve this. She should be slapping you, so why don’t you drop this charades and quit acting like you’re okay. You’re not okay, you’re a fuck up and you will always be one.’_

 

He hunched forward slightly, just subtle enough so that it didn’t catch his co-worker’s attention, and averted his gaze from Lita. What right did he have to be cheerful? He already messed up things with Chris -- it was inevitable that he would lose his friends too.

 

Lita opened her phone to check the time, crestfallen that she had to get going soon. She didn’t want to leave; her friend’s company was something she cherished dearly. She straightened up from where she’d been slumped in the chair with her feet propped up on the end of the bed. She had to tell him what was going on, even though it hurt her to be the bearer of bad news. Not that it was bad necessarily, but she presumed he’d be upset. “I have to head out, but before that, um….Rey and I packed your stuff and moved them out of Chris’ condo. You’ll be staying with Rey.” Gee, what a way to deliver the news. ‘ _Idiot_.’ She cursed herself. She hadn’t meant to be so blunt.

 

Eddie was silent for an awfully long moment, leading her to brace herself for arguing. She was floored when the chicano nodded. Never did she thought that in her lifetime, she would be a witness to the wrestler’s readily agreement. Then she asked a stupid question - “Are you sure you’re okay with it?” She couldn’t help it; she wanted to clarify to make sure what she was seeing was real. “You don’t mind moving away from Chris?”

 

Eddie shrugged, looking out of the window again. A week ago, he would have protested and begged Lita not to do this, but if he was honest with himself, he’d been wanting to get out of that godforsaken place for months, but he’d never had the courage to do so. This was an opportunity he’d been waiting for, but the guilt kept lurking around. Despite everything, he still loved Chris and leaving the Canadian was like a knife in his gut. Yet, he couldn’t stay and put up with the fear. He couldn’t do it anymore.

 

He was so tired.

 

“Have to say I’m impressed, but I’m glad you’re fine with this. The doctors told me you’ll be released on Wednesday, so Rey will pick you up around noon that day,” Lita continued, pleased that her friend was being cooperative even though the withdrawn appearance worried her. She stood up, brushing her pants off. “Sorry, hon, but I better go. I’ll see you again soon. Pinky promise,” she murmured, offering her finger.

 

Eddie smiled wanly and intertwined his digit with the diva’s, forcing himself to meet her concerned scrutiny and hoping to convince her that he was fine. But he could feel a flashback invading his mind, the edges of reality distorting until his vision started spasming between white and black. He shook his head, attempting to stabilize himself before he was lost in the relentless talons of the memories raking his soul. He froze up when Lita’s hand ran through his hair and a warm pair of lips pressed very faintly against his forehead in a way that was startlingly tender. The contact served as an anchor, pushing the darkness away and allowing him a brief respite. He glanced up at the red-haired woman who cupped his cheek with an unreadable expression.

 

“Keep your chin up, sweetie. I know it’ll get better soon, okay? Oh, I’ll throw that away for you.”

 

He nodded again, far too cynical to share her hope. There was only one path for an useless mistake like him, but he said nothing when she picked up the empty styrofoam cup.

 

“And when you get out, please do me a favor and shave that face. The whole fuzzy shit so does _not_ suit you. Dork.”

 

The playful tone made him break out into a shy smile, his own hand reaching up to touch his face, feeling several days worth of stubbles along his jawline.

 

Lita felt slightly better at the rosy colors returning to Eddie; she didn’t like how white he was a minute ago. “See ya,” she sighed, squeezing his shoulder and leaving the room.

 

Eddie watched the retreating back of the brunette, a pang of sadness reverberating through him. The nurses made him uneasy and he felt safer whenever Lita or Mark was with him. He swallowed his dread down, reminding himself that in two days, he would be out and far away from this hellish place.

 

He tensed up when a different lady entered his room, recognizing Audrey as the senior LPN. She was his least favorite person here ever since she pushed him off the bed and threatened to send him to the psych ward the other day. He fidgeted anxiously, not liking the needle in her hand.

 

“Are you going to behave today?”

 

He clenched his jaw and lowered his eyes, hating how those words triggered an unwanted memory of Benoit petting him as he was ordered to get on his knees.

 

_“Be a good boy, cheri, and open that mouth for me.”_

 

He hid a shiver and stayed still as the blonde caretaker came closer, not wanting to be stabbed with the syringe. He flinched when she slammed a couple small pills on the tray attached to his cot.

 

“Take the Lexipro. The sooner you’re out of here, the sooner I can help treat people who have _real_ emergencies. I don’t know why they let you stay this long…”

 

He bowed his head shamefully, trembling as Audrey stormed out of the room. He was so useless, taking up precious resources where he didn’t deserve the care. There was probably someone out in the waiting room who needed this bed far more than he did. He shut his eyes as hot tears started sliding down his cheeks and dripped onto the blanket he was clutching tightly. What little happiness he’d felt earlier was gone now and he suddenly wished that Lita and Mark hadn’t stepped in when they did, that Chris had succeeded in landing the final blow just so he wasn’t wasting oxygen. He didn’t deserve to be saved. He should have been in a pine box years ago.

 

_“Tell me, what good are you? You can’t do anything right. You can’t cook, hold a conversation, and you’re not a good fuck anymore. Why are you even alive? Hell, you can barely wrestle. The only reason you got hired by the company was because I told them I wouldn’t work unless they took you too. If it wasn’t for me, you would be in the gutter, so where is my thanks?”_

 

Chris had screamed those harsh words at him in the heat of the moment and later apologized to him afterwards, but they already drilled to his heart because it was true. He was worthless in every aspect.

 

He picked up the pills, staring at them blankly and feeling disappointed that the nurse didn’t give him the bottle so he could do everyone a favor and just fade away. He sighed and popped them in his mouth, taking a swig of the water from the cup that Alex had brought him hours ago. He laid back down in the bed, closing his eyes.

 

Maybe he’d get lucky and not wake up next time.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Wednesday_

_October 06, 2004_

 

 

For the thousandth time, Rey shot a troubled glance at his best friend as they drove to his apartment. The discharge process was easy enough and went by without any issues. All he had to do was sign some paperworks, but he was bothered by how the hospital was far too eager to get rid of Eddie and he didn’t particularly like the despondent look on the other latino’s face. His hands gripped on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, wondering again just what the man actually went through. He checked his gas tank, chagrined to note that the arrow was on empty. They’d only been driving for four hours and he was literally ten minutes away from the complex, but he didn’t have enough fuel to make it home. “Gotta stop by Shell’s,” he mumbled.

 

Eddie grunted, not moving from where he was watching passing cars out of the passenger window. The drive had mostly been silent, something he was immensely grateful for. His voice was still strained and Rey couldn’t look at his writing while they drove anyway. He was happy to be out of the hospital, but he was lost. He didn’t know what to do now that he wasn’t staying with Chris.

 

What purpose did he have now?

 

After they filled up the tank, they arrived at Rey’s apartment soon after. The walk to the door was nervewracking for Eddie. He was in an unfamiliar place where he didn’t know anyone, and if Rey wanted to imprison him, it would be easy to do. Then he snapped out of his blind panic. There was no way his amigo would do something that absurd, but he couldn’t shake free of his misgivings. He looked around the apartment, a little off-put at the cozy warmth of the interior compared to the unwelcoming appearance of the outside.

 

“I know it’s a bit small, but it’s not cramped so you shouldn’t feel claustrophobic. Your room is right across from the kitchen and mine is next to you. If you need me, you can just come in,” Rey murmured, carrying his duffle bag to his bedroom and dropping it on the flimsy mattress before returning to the kitchen. His throat closed up in alarm when he saw Eddie studying the carving knife he’d left on the kitchen counter when he was here last Wednesday after he made steak. Bizarrely enough, he felt like the older chicano was in danger and he moved instinctively, shoving his friend out of the kitchen and away from the sharp utensil. “You can relax here. I’ll do the cooking,” he rambled, trying to hide his irrational fear. “Why don’t you make yourself at home?”

 

Eddie paused, frowning slightly and shaking his head. “No need. I can just get a bag of clothes and leave,” he said quietly.

 

Rey started, meeting his hermano’s gaze in disbelief. “Why the hell would you do that?”

 

Eddie shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “There’s no reason for me to be here. I’m only a burden,” he muttered.

 

“So you think you should be tossed out to the street like a stray cat?!” Rey exclaimed, horrified at the very thought. His very soul twisted at the image of his friend wandering around the city and being vulnerable to all the evil that surrounded this town. Eddie would be dead by sundown in this haggard state.

 

“That’s all I’m good for.”

 

Oh, _hell_ no. He wasn’t having this. He wasn’t going to listen to Eddie’s bitterness because the other wrestler was far too pure to think that lowly. _‘Chris, this is all your fucking fault!’_ he yelled silently, anger churning in his stomach. He gently grasped the latino’s cheeks with both hands so that their eyes met. “I’m not abandoning you,” he growled. “So, don’t you ever say that. You are so much more than that.”

 

Eddie bit on his lower lip, confused at the sincerity behind Rey’s words. He wasn’t expecting the smaller man to be this upset over his request, not when he was only speaking the truth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, guilt knitting around him at how he made Rey sad again. He really couldn’t do anything right.

 

“Don’t be sorry, please.”

 

He wished he could believe that. He took a step back, rolling his shoulders. While touches didn’t aggravate him as much, he still had an aversion to them. “I’m...I’m gonna lay down. I’m tired,” he changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on the conversation.

 

“Okay. I’ll wake you up for dinner in a couple hours. What do you want to eat?” Rey asked, concealing his worry. It was natural, he told himself. Eddie was still recovering, so the man’s energy would still be low.

 

“Um..soup, I guess.”

 

“I’ll make tomato soup with crescent rolls then!”

 

Eddie relaxed, thankful that Mysterio didn’t pressure him to eat a more substantial meal. His appetite had yet to return. He trudged to the guest bedroom that Rey had pointed out upon their arrival. He closed the door behind him and his eyes widened when he saw that the walls were decorated with photos and old posters; he didn’t think that his friend would go through all of this on his behalf. An odd tingle of warmth filled his chest as he crawled into bed, snuggling under the covers contently. Right when he was about to fall asleep, an annoying sound of a phone chirping brought him back to the real world. He groaned and turned on his side, hoisting his upper body up with an elbow as he tried to find the source. He was surprised when he noticed his cell on the tableside. He’d assumed it was still at the condo states away. He picked the phone up, freezing at the caller ID

 

_‘Why is he trying to contact me?’_

 

Benoit must be trying to get a hold of him to track him down because he honestly doubted that his lover would let him off the hook. He remained rigid, paralyzed with fear. _‘What should I do?’_ If he accepted the call, he would be yelled at and threatened, but if he ignored it, then he was signing his own death warrant. He fumbled with his phone, torn between the two choices. At the sixth ring, he decided on the lesser of the two evils and answered before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”

 

“Eddie? This you?”

 

He let out a shaky breath, bringing his knees towards his chest as he sat up, his intestines coiling tightly. “Si. What do you want?”

 

“To say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hurt you. I fucked up.”

 

Oh. It was this same old game.

 

“But I swear I’ll get better. You just need to give me more time, cheri.”

 

Chris always reached out to him after a fight, apologizing and promising to get better. And every time, Eddie would give the man another chance. It was an endless cycle -- one he was tired of being trapped in. He was sick of being covered in bruises, sick of being scared all the time, even now his hand was shaking as he held the phone. “How about you take your ‘I’m sorry’ and shove it up your ass?” Eddie hissed, terrified and pissed off at once. His despair was forgotten. Right now, he just wanted to give Benoit a piece of his mind because he couldn’t understand why he was constantly kicked around. _‘If I’m so useless to you, why bother keeping me? Just put me out of my misery.’_ He didn’t want to be a punching bag anymore. He wasn’t sure when the realization came to him, perhaps it’d been there all along and he was too blind to see it before now, but he could clearly see that Chris was never going to change. Not when he kept letting the Canadian use him. The prospect of being stuck in this relationship for another year made him feel exhausted to his bones.

 

“Eddie, please. I really am sorry.”

 

“I’m sure you are,” he sneered, fuming silently. This wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be the one to bore the scars?

 

“I need time, babe. We can take a break, like you wanted. Just a short break and I’ll be good. But don’t leave me, okay? Don’t give up on me -- I never gave up on you.”

 

The pleas made Eddie flinch, guilt searing him for a moment before his anger rose again. “The difference, puta,” he snarled, not caring that his tone was scathing. “I never beat the shit out of you. I never made you bleed or fucked you without your okay, so don’t you put this on me.”

 

“Please, don’t do this. You’re my only reason to live.”

 

That was the final nail in the coffin.

 

“I’m your only reason to live? Then why did you try to kill me? That isn’t love. I don’t know what, but that is _not_ love. Don’t you dare to say it is,” he almost shouted, his throat protesting under the strain and reminding him that his vocal cords were still healing.

 

“I know I’m a dick. God, I know that, but I’m telling the truth. I really do love you.”

 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

 

“Yes, cheri.”

 

“Here’s what I think -- you’re full of shit. Go fuck yourself,” Eddie seethed, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room. He was trembling like a leaf and he was overcome with dismay that he’d singlehandedly ended the relationship. He didn’t mean to, not like this. His rage evaporated and a low whine slipped out. _‘What is wrong with me?’_ He curled into a ball, his muscles twinging as he gasped, panic constricting his chest.

 

“Eddie? You okay? I heard a noise and --” Rey cut off when he barged into the room. There was a loud crash a moment ago and he was worried that the other latino had fell. He came to a halt, startled to see Guerrero on the bed going through an anxiety attack. At least that was what he thought it was. The doctors had described the symptoms to him when Eddie was discharged and right now, his hermano was displaying almost all of them. He forced himself to move, sprinting to the bed and gently touching the man’s biceps. “You with me, holmes?” he prompted. The distraught brown eyes snapping to his made him swallow. He couldn’t stand the anguish swimming behind them.

 

“Chris called me.”

 

Fury burst up, but he willed it down. If he showed his anger now, it would only scare Eddie more. “Did he try to get you to come home?”

 

Eddie shook his head, whimpering faintly. “N-No. He only wanted to apologize and I told him to shove it,” he sniffled, tears starting to trickle down his face. “I’m such a fucking asshole,” he broke off, his breaths hitching.

 

Rey gathered his co-worker into his arms, gently running his hand in slow, soothing circles on Eddie’s back as the chicano sobbed into his chest. The front of his shirt darkened and became damp, but he didn’t mind. His heart was being ripped to pieces at the pathetic keening noises coming from his best friend and he glared at the ceiling.

 

 **  
** _‘I swear I’ll make you regret hurting him like this, Chris. I fucking swear.’_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Don't ever say goodbye.  
> See my head aches from all this thinkin'  
> Feels like a ship God, God knows I'm sinkin'  
> Wonder what you do and where it is you stay.  
> These questions like a whirlwind, they carry me away.  
> Who will bring me flowers when it's over?  
> And who will give me comfort when it’s cold?  
> Who will I belong to when the day just won't give in?  
> And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins?"  
> \- Flowers for a Ghost by Thriving Ivory


	31. Wavering Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Call the doctor, call the doctor.  
> Must be something wrong with me.  
> He's a monster.  
> Why do I want ya?  
> Please tell me." - He's A Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long delay in a new chapter. I love how I can think of new ideas for new stories, but I can't come up with anything for my current stories lmao.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

_Friday, October 15, 2004._

 

 

It had been a little over a week since Eddie snapped at Chris and hung up when the Canadian tried to apologize for the assault.

 

 

Nine days.

 

 

Two hundred and sixteen hours.

 

 

Fifty-seven text messages from Chris so far.

 

 

Eddie knew because he counted them all. He had a feeling that the other man would be upset, but he never once thought it would turn into almost an obsession. He didn’t reply back to any of the messages, paranoid that he would give in and the cycle would resume. Despite the fact he was hurt and angry at his best friend, he still loved Chris. That love would be his downfall if he wasn’t careful enough because Chris would always be his biggest weakness.

 

 

Eddie let out a bitter laugh at the realization; everything that brought him happiness always ended up dropping him to his knees ‘cause he was so fucking pathetic. It made sense that Benoit would take advantage of him -- he was just a mistake.

 

 

He threw an arm over his head and sighed, laying in bed with the room shrouded in darkness. He hadn’t left the spot all that much and Rey was getting worried, but he couldn’t bring himself to put up a pretense that everything was okay. He’d broken up with a man who his heart belonged to and a part of him desperately wanted to take the words he’d yelled at Chris back. For all the issues he had with the Canadian, being alone scared him more than his former lover’s fists.

 

 

Funny how he would take the sex again if it meant he wouldn’t be alone with his demons.

 

 

Eddie bit on his lip, clenching his hands into the sheets. He’d gotten so used to Chris keeping him straight and narrow that he no longer knew how to survive on his own, and it was laudable. “Damn him,” he whispered. He couldn’t make up his mind whether he hated the man or not, but he sure as hell hated himself.

 

 

His phone went off. Again. Sometimes Benoit would text him up to twenty times a day. It started off as somewhat normal.

 

 

_‘Call me. Please.’_

 

 

_‘Ed, come on. Don’t do this to me, cheri.’_

 

 

_‘Do you really think I’m the only problem here? You’re just as bad.’_

 

 

_‘Are you honestly upset about me swatting you around? I had to put you in your place for your sake.’_

 

 

_‘No one wants a partner who’s a tease and ungrateful. I was helping you.’_

 

 

_‘I swear to God if you don’t reply, I’ll make you wish you died in that locker room.’_

 

 

_‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just so lost without you. Please call me.’_

 

 

_‘You found someone else, haven’t you? Fucking cheating whore.’_

 

 

_‘I’m the only one who will ever love you. You’re never going to find someone who can put up with your used ass.’_

 

 

The list went on and on, and each text hurt him like nothing else, yet he couldn’t find the courage to block Chris. In a way, he felt like he deserved it. After all, Benoit was gentle once and loved him without hurting him. Eddie fucked everything up, so this was his fault.

 

 

He picked up his cell to check the new message.

 

 

_‘If you call me back, I’ll forgive you and everything will be back to normal. I promise.’_

 

 

Dios, he was tempted. He despised the way his friend toyed with his feelings like this, but he still wavered between the choices. For all the pain in his heart, his resolve was still weak. Chris was the only one in his life besides Chavito who put up with him all these years, and this was how he repaid the Canadian. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, tears burning behind his closed eyes as he put the phone down. Maybe he did deserve being treated the way he was, but at the same time, the thought of being beaten up and fucked again made him sick.

 

 

Eddie turned over on his side, sitting up unsteadily. He actually hadn’t moved from where he’d been laying down for about thirteen hours now and he was surprised to find himself sore. Right when he was getting ready to stretch, the door opened and Mysterio walked in. He groaned inwardly, not wanting to deal with his friend’s concern. He was fine.

 

 

“You okay?” Rey asked, going over to sit by the other chicano. He was worried about Guerrero who seemed to sleep all the time. He knew his hermano would be sad about being separated from Chris, but he didn’t think Eddie would fall into depression. Rey tried not to be hurt when the older man turned away from him without a word. “You can’t just stay in here all the time, hombre,” he chided gently.

 

 

Eddie rolled his eyes at Rey’s voice, wishing the younger latino would go away. He never told his friend about Chris’ messages, knowing he would get a lecture if he did. He just wanted to be alone and disappear under the covers, but no one understood that. They all kept bothering him with useless questions and they irritated him. He was fine, he just needed sleep. “I’m okay. Just go,” he muttered, hiding under the blankets again.

 

 

Rey sighed at the antisocial attitude, feeling helpless and at a loss on what he should do. He knew this was unhealthy; Eddie had to get out of this room and back to the living world, but he didn’t want to force him either. “I’ll let you rest if you’ll come out for a bit. I’m making steak for dinner,” Rey murmured in a quiet voice. “Por favor?”

 

 

Eddie was silent for a few seconds before he peeked out from the sheets to glare at Mysterio. “Fine,” he snapped, throwing the heavy covers off and getting out of the bed. If Rey wasn’t going to leave him alone, then he would have to humor the younger wrestler. He stalked out of the bedroom, going to the dining area to sit at the table and crossing his arms with a huff. It was actually cold now that he was no longer cocooned in the warmth of the bed, goosebumps prickling along his skin and making his hairs stand up on end. He suppressed a shiver and looked down as Rey started cooking, hating how exposed he felt. Eddie hadn’t realized how comfortable he’d grown in his isolation that being out in the open and around other people made him nervous.

 

 

Mysterio grilled the steak and steamed the vegetables, occasionally casting a worried glance back at Eddie. His friend hadn’t said anything in the past hour, or moved from the chair. It threw him off since the other wrestler was constantly on the move or filling the silence with conversations. The stillness was unnatural and he had to fight the ridiculous urge to check if Eddie was alive. “Food will be ready soon.”

 

 

Eddie didn’t acknowledge the words, playing with the strings of his sweatpants. His thoughts were straying back to Chris and with them came heavy guilt. He loved the Canadian, he really did, but he hated the pain that came with it. Maybe that made him a bad person, but he didn’t have the strength to put up with Benoit’s mood swings.

 

 

He honestly wasn’t worthy of someone like Chris anyways.

 

 

_“If I can’t have you, then no one will.”_

 

 

The flashback made him flinch because Chris was right. No one wanted him, not with the poison he had in his heart. Everyone always ended up leaving whenever he acted up, even his own flesh and blood. Chris was the only one who stayed and loved him despite his many, many unforgivable flaws.

 

 

What did he do in return?

 

 

He just pushed his lover away because he was too stupid to appreciate him.

 

 

The sound of a plate being set in front of him and the amorous scent of the steak anchored Eddie back to the present moment. He blinked and looked down at the food, dutifully picking up a knife and fork.

 

 

Rey didn’t take his eyes off of Eddie as he sat down next to his best friend. There was a bit of a cloudiness behind the chestnut gaze and it kind of freaked him out. “You good?” He questioned softly, earning a muted nod. He wasn’t really reassured by the answer and he decided to press a little more. “You wanna talk about it?” All he got was a faint head shake and he sighed, frustrated at the brick wall between them. Eddie had been living with him for a few weeks, but they hadn’t been making any progress. He knew that his coworker was still struggling to accept the fact that the relationship was abusive and toxic. He made a mental note to talk to Calaway since the Undertaker seemed to be the one who understood what went on in Eddie’s mind. His gaze snapped back to Guerrero when he saw him bit into a chunk of steak and Rey couldn’t help but smile. Even that small bite was a step forward in the right direction.

 

 

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give him hope.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

That same night, long after they finished eating, Eddie couldn’t sleep. He kept tossing and turning fitfully before he eventually gave up and left his bedroom. He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he stumbled towards Rey’s, spotting his friend dozing peacefully. He hesitated by the doorway, wanting to crawl in and cuddle with Rey, but he didn’t want to wake the smaller man over something so stupid. After a moment of indecision, he changed his mind and went to the kitchen instead. He came to a stop, absently studying the dirty dishes piled up in the sink before his eyes wandered over to the carving knives on the metallic strip attached to the wall.

 

 

His fingers reached out, dancing along the sharp edge of the blade and biting down on his lower lip when it cut a fine line along his delicate skin. He brought his hand up to his face, tongue flickering out to lap the blood oozing from the wound. He really couldn’t explain his fascination with the knives. He didn’t consider himself suicidal by any means since he had no explicit desire to die, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to live either. He was caught in between. There was no one willing to stay with him and he didn’t have enough willpower to live on his own, not without giving in to his demons because he was so fucking weak and worthless. He itched to bury the blade in his chest so that he wouldn’t bother anyone over his childish problems, but he made no move to do just that. _‘I really am a coward,’_ he thought scornfully, curling his hands into fists. He glanced over his shoulder back towards the dark bedroom where Rey was sleeping, regret piercing through him. He knew Mysterio was trying to help him, but he was too damaged to be fixed. He took the largest knife off the strip and twirled it in his fingers. It was all too tempting to slice himself up, but he didn’t want the other wrestler waking up and finding him like this.

 

 

Eddie slipped his shoes on, not bothering to change into something warmer other than the sweats and tank top he was currently dressed in. He stepped outside, closing the door quietly shut behind him. It was chilly enough for him to see his breaths in small visible puffs, but it didn’t bother him. If anything, the cold brought a clarity to him and his feelings weren’t so muddled. He staggered down the street, tightening his grip on the knife until it cut into his palm and blood dripped down. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, but he halted when he came across a small lake. He gazed up at the dark sky, a few glittering stars shining through the dense pollution in the air. He idledly remembered one of his coworkers, Austin, once saying how the stars were long dead and their light were just ghostly remnants of once living bodies. The memory brought a grim smirk to his face and he laughed darkly, banging the handle of the knife against his forehead as tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. He was dead inside, just like the stars. He had no future; he would be lucky if he was allowed to return to work after all this. His friend would soon tire of him and abandon him because he was too much of a burden. He wandered down to the dock until he was at the edge, staring at the murky depths. It would be so easy to throw himself in the water and let himself sink to the bottom.

 

 

So easy to just fade away forgotten.

 

 

It would certainly be a relief for everyone and he wouldn’t feel the pain in his chest anymore. All he ever wanted was to be with Chris, to be loved, but he was too worthless for such luxury. He sure as hell didn’t deserve to even be walking around like this while Chris’ life was most likely ruined thanks to his selfish actions. He didn’t realize he was leaning over the edge, about to take a step forward, until headlights washed over him. He froze in his tracks, his foot hovering in mid-air when he heard the rumbling car engine shut off. He quickly scrambled backwards, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned around, expecting Rey, but it wasn’t the familiar convertible lowrider that was parked on the hill above the dock. His blood pressure spiked and he trembled, collapsing on his knees and whimpering in fear. Was it Chris who came to get him, to kill him in revenge for rejecting the apology? “N-No, por favor. I’m sorry,” he whispered, fresh tears silently falling down.

 

 

Calaway stepped out of his jeep, concern etched on his face when he saw the chicano seemingly paralyzed with fear on the dock. Mysterio had called him almost two hours ago, frantically screaming that Eddie had disappeared. He had spent the whole time driving around trying to find the younger man to no avail. He decided to stop by this lake as a last resort and while he won’t admit it aloud, he did feel an enormous wave of reprieve crashing over him at the sight of Guerrero relatively unhurt. He had kept a close eye on his friend’s case for the past couple month, already picking up on the telltale signs of depression. He was more than aware of the tight bond between Eddie and Chris, how painful it was to break it. “There you are, kid,” he grunted out, walking down to the smaller wrestler who had yet to stand up. He crouched down so that they were at eye level. “It’s me, Mark. You remember me?” He asked softly, reaching out to cup the pale face.

 

 

Eddie snapped out of his daze, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “Mark?” He breathed, confused to see Taker here. He didn’t even know the legend was in the area. “Qué? How?” He stammered, feeling so lost right now. He stood up unsteadily, leaning on his friend as he tried to regain his balance.

 

 

“Rey called me. He was freaking out,” Calaway replied gruffly, letting Eddie cling onto him without a comment. Then he felt something wet and he looked down, his brows creasing when he realized that the younger man was bleeding. “Lemme see,” he grumbled, grasping the wrist gingerly and his eyes widening a fraction at the knife practically buried in the hand. “Jesus Christ, Ed,” he whispered, carefully taking the blade away. He didn’t notice how fragile the chicano’s self control was and he cursed inwardly at himself for not paying more attention. The situation was even more dire than he’d originally thought if Guerrero was wandering around in the middle of the night like this. “What’s going on?”

 

 

Eddie shrugged helplessly, looking up at the Undertaker with bambi eyes. He didn’t know how to put to words how he was feeling, didn’t know how to explain the despair that consumed his soul. It seemed there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Everyone always said that it would be easier now that he was away from Chris, but it wasn’t easier. It only got much more difficult to get through the lonely days.

 

 

Mark sighed, taking his trench coat off and putting it around Eddie, feeling his face heat up at the puzzled look. “Your lips are purple. Don’t need you catching hypothermia,” he muttered, scratching his chin awkwardly. He gently grabbed his coworker’s arm and led him back to his jeep. Calaway still hadn’t grown used to taking care of someone like this so he was easily flustered. “C’mon, let’s take you home and get that cut clean up,” he said, easing Guerrero into the passenger seat and getting in on the other side, making sure the heat was on full blast while they drove back to Mysterio’s place.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Rey was pacing around his apartment, running his hands through his hair as he chewed on the inside of his cheeks, all kinds of worse case scenarios running through his mind. He’d woken up to go take a piss and he felt the weird urge to check on Eddie. He still recalled the unadulterated fear that raced up his spine when he discovered the empty bed and his hermano nowhere to be found. He didn’t know what to do so he called Mark in a blind panic since the Deadman was in the city. His ears perked when he heard his front door open and he swiveled around to see just the two men he’d been waiting for. “About damn time!” He exclaimed, stalking over to Eddie who looked rightfully sheepish. “Where the _fuck_ were you, Eddie?! I woke up and you were gone. Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?!” He didn’t mean to yell, but now that his best friend was back safe and sound, the relief was dissolving into anger.

 

 

Eddie shrank from the fury exploding from Mysterio. He knew he deserved it for making the smaller wrestler worried sick, but the raised voice still made him flinch. His heart rate sped up and his breathing faltered, taking a step back to hide behind Calaway. The situation was reminding him uncomfortably of the fights he and Chris used to have, remembering the way the Canadian would shout and hit him. He trembled, expecting Rey to smack him any minute now. “L-Lo siento…”

 

 

“No, I’m not done yet! You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just gonna let you off--” Rey cut off when he saw Mark holding a bloodied knife, his eyes darting over to Eddie’s left hand wrapped in bandages and he growled low in his throat. He grabbed a fistful of the latino’s tank top, ignoring Taker’s glare. “Did you cut yourself? Did you? Were you trying to kill yourself, Eddie? What the fuck is wrong with you?! How do you think that we, that I, would feel if we found you dead? Por qué eres tan egoísta?” He yelled, his voice cracking.

 

 

Eddie’s shaking worsened, whimpering brokenly at the furious words being shouted in his face. “I’m s-sorry. Don’t hit me. I won’t do it again, don’t hit me por favor,” he begged incoherently, bursting into tears at Rey’s face contorted in fear and anger.

 

 

“That’s enough,” Mark snapped, pushing Mysterio off and guiding the hysterical man away from Eddie. “You’re not helping the situation. You need to calm down,” he muttered. He understood Rey’s anger, but it was only making Eddie’s panic attack worse. What he just witnessed told him that the smaller latino had reached the end of the rope and was no longer fit to watch over Eddie. “Go wait in my car, kid,” he ordered, glancing back to make sure Guerrero followed it.

 

 

Eddie just nodded, bowing his head and trudging out of the apartment, hugging himself as he climbed in the car once he returned to the parking lot. He really shouldn’t be surprised at Mysterio’s outburst if he thought about it. The only thing he was good at was pissing others off. He curled up in the seat, blinking back tears and staring off in space. Several minutes later, he jumped when the trunk opened, twisting in the leather cushion to watch Mark throw a bunch of bags in the back. He cocked his head curiously, confused why they were taking his stuff with him, but he didn't ask.

 

 

Mark closed the door and got in the driver’s side, turning the engine on. “You’re staying with me for now. Rey isn’t mad at you, but he needs a break,” he explained, sensing the question burning inside the chicano.

 

 

Eddie slumped in his seat, turning away from Calaway so his idol wouldn’t see him crying. Another one of his talents was driving his friends away. No one wanted to deal with his pathetic ass.

 

 

It probably wouldn’t be long until Taker kicked him to the curb as well.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_Monday, November 01, 2004_

 

 

It’d been nearly a month since Eddie moved in with Mark and while the Deadman didn’t show any signs of getting frustrated with him, Eddie was still wary. He had grown to accept the fact that he was dead weight, a good-for-nothing luggage.

 

 

His lover had pounded that lesson into his head so many times, that it was only Chris who could stand him.

 

 

Eddie wandered around the house, tugging at the ends of his sleeves. Mark’s home was huge, a kitchen with a theater room, living room, three full bathrooms, and two bedrooms. It was spacious compared to Rey’s cozy apartment. It didn’t escape his attention that Calaway had also hidden all of the knives and anything that he could have used to hurt himself, but he never brought it up. In a way, he couldn’t comprehend how far Taker was going to make sure he was safe. It was bizarre and he couldn’t help but think there were strings attached.

 

 

He snapped out of his musing when he heard his name being called and he walked back to the living room, seeing the older man relaxing on the couch. He wasn’t allowed to be on his own for long, often on a proverbial leash with Mark, but if he was honest with himself, he really didn’t mind. He kinda liked the attention. He obediently sat down next to his friend, curling up against the bigger body. After a brief moment of respite, an arm wrapped around him and he purred softly. He didn’t realize how starved for affections he was until now.

 

 

Eddie never thought he would miss Chris’ touches, but he did. Hell, at this point, he would gladly let the Canadian fuck him again because even though the sex was painful, it let him know he was loved.

 

 

There were certain qualities in Mark that reminded him of his ex too -- like how protective and gentle Taker was, that were mirror glimpses of how Chris used to be before the violence took over their relationship.

 

 

Eddie moved without a second thought, climbing in Calaway’s lap and straddling the waist. He could see the surprise look on his idol’s face, the mouth opening to ask a question, and he smashed his lips against the Phenom’s. This might convinced his coworker to let him stay longer. He had no problem offering sex if it meant he wouldn’t be abandoned.

 

 

Mark was shocked at the kiss, frozen on the couch for an endless heartbeat before he snapped out of it and gently pushed the latino off. “Eddie, stop.”

 

 

Eddie stiffened, not expecting Calaway to turn down his advances. He forced a smile and rubbed his hips against the older man’s crotch teasingly. “It’s okay, holmes. I’m a good lay, I promise. I’ll make it worth your time.”

 

 

“Eddie…”

 

 

“No, seriously. It’s my way of saying thanks. I know I’m kinda useless, but I’m a nice fuck --”

 

 

“Eddie!”

 

 

Eddie abruptly fell silent, flinching at the shout and letting Calaway move him off the lap. He didn’t think Mark would reject him like this and for some stupid reason, there was a lump in his throat. “Y-You don’t want me…?” He asked haltingly.

 

 

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep sigh. He wasn’t prepared for Guerrero to make a move like _that._ “Don’t get me wrong, Ed. You’re an attractive man, but you’re too much like a brother for me to see you in that regard. Besides, you don’t want me. Not really,” he explained, smiling dryly when Eddie glared at him. “I know you still have feelings for Chris. Am I wrong?”

 

 

Eddie blushed, shame sweeping through him until his skin felt hot with embarrassment. “No. Yes. I don’t know,” he groaned, leaning back against the couch with a sharp exhale as he crossed his arms. “I hate him, but I still love him at the same time. Like, I’m glad I broke up with him, but I still want to run back and beg for forgiveness. I’m just a fuck up,” he laughed bitterly, covering his face with his elbow. He was a complete mess and he honestly didn’t see how he could ever get out of the gutter he managed to climb into.

 

 

Mark was silent for a while, pursuing his lips at how Eddie was trembling faintly. While the physical wounds from the assault in the locker room two months ago were fully healed, the emotional scars would take far much longer to recover from. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, kid. What you went through isn’t something anyone can just bounce back from and be 100% overnight,” he chided in a kind voice.

 

 

“Yeah, well, you would think I’d be over it by now.”

 

 

The muttered words made him frown and he shook his head, not about to listen to the chicano put himself down like this. “Everybody is different. It takes some folks longer than others, nothing wrong with that,” Mark grunted, biting back a lecture when Eddie didn’t say anything. He glanced at the grandfather clock, noting how it was after 10:00 pm. “It’s getting late. Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” He offered, unable to resist a smile when his friend beamed at him. Guerrero wasn’t fully back to himself yet, but Calaway could see faint hints of the old Latino Heat starting to reemerge.

 

 

Eddie was relieved that he was allowed to sleep with Taker. It was getting awfully lonely in his bedroom lately and he’d been craving some intimacy. He eagerly followed Mark to the master bedroom, hopping on the mattress and immediately snuggling against the bigger wrestler, making soft cooing noises while the Deadman let him cocoon himself in the warmth.

 

 

Mark could feel the small latino dozing off not too long after he turned off the lights, carefully rolling over on his side so that Eddie was nestled against his chest. His hand absently rubbed the younger man’s back as he gazed off into the darkness. The scene on the couch kept replaying in his mind and he felt a harsh pang of grief at the fact that Eddie had such a low sense of self worth that he thought the only way to make other people like him was through sex. Mark swallowed the sadness down, not wanting to dwell on it because thinking about such things will only make him upset and won’t get him anywhere. They may have gotten Eddie away from Chris and the unhealthy relationship, but that was only half the battle.

 

 

He pressed a light peck on the chicano’s forehead and pet the disheveled hair. “You’re not alone, kid. You don’t need to be scared anymore,” he whispered, knowing Eddie couldn’t hear him.

 

  
This was far from over, but he would make sure Eddie would climb out of this rabbit hole.

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it might feel like Eddie isn't making much progress in trying to move on and heal from the relationship, but that's kind of real life in a way. It takes forever to take a step forward.
> 
> The next chapter will be in Chris' POV!


	32. Contradictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Watch the time go  
> right out the window.  
> Trying to hold on,   
> but didn't even know,  
> I wasted it all just to watch you go.  
> I kept everything inside,  
> And even though I tried, it all fell apart."  
> \- In the End, Linking Park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pretends to not notice that it has been over a year since this fic last got updated*  
> I don't even know if any of y'all have checked back on this, but in case you do, tadaaaaa I've graced you with a new chapter from my newly-revived writing hands. I know this might be hard to believe, but we're nearly at the end! 
> 
> As stated in the last chapter, this is in Chris' perspective. The timeline and dialogue will overlap a bit since this takes place from Eddie nearly getting killed in the locker room up to shortly after where 31 left off. I added some parallelism, it could be subtle or blatantly obvious depending on how you perceive it, but enjoy!
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

_ Tuesday, September 21, 2004 _

 

 

Chris was pissed. He thought that Eddie would be stronger, but instead the latino was whimpering something about them being best friends -- as if that was reason enough to trust the man.

 

As if it would absolve all of the shit Eddie pulled over in the past months.

 

The impact of his fist slamming into the center of Eddie’s face and the satisfying crunch made him feel powerful. He needed more, the punches alone weren’t enough -- he had to break his lover down bits by bits until there were nothing left. He quickly grabbed his  _ friend’s _ arm and brought Eddie down until he pinned the chicano on the floor. Chris honestly didn’t know where this bloodlust came from; perhaps playing nice for weeks led him to the breaking point and the sex in the shower earlier was finally his release. He vaguely heard Eddie crying, broken threats about leaving making him laugh. “Did you really think I’d let you leave me,” he sneered, twisting the arm until the bones cracked under the pressure and he let out a contented sigh, cock twitching in his pants. He had long ago accepted that he got off on pain. Every now and then, a tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind would speak up about how he shouldn’t be hurting Eddie since he really did love the man, but he learned to ignore it. He had to hurt him, had to control him, or else Eddie would leave him.

 

Chris couldn’t have that, not when the latino was the light of his life. 

 

Who could blame him for trapping that light in a jar and screwing the lid tightly shut so it couldn’t escape?

 

He let go of the arm, straddling Eddie’s waist and wailing his fists down until his knuckles were bruised and coated with blood. The body beneath him slowly went limp and he frowned, still not pleased. He moved off of his lover and stood up, raising his foot to slam it down only to be careened away. “Hey!” he shouted indignantly, thrashing against the bigger man whom he recognized as Taker. “Let me go, dammit! I’m not finished!” he spat, furious that Calaway was holding him back. He needed his fix. 

 

“Knock it off. You’re going to kill him at this rate.”

 

“Pfffttt, he’s not that weak. I’ve put him through worse,” Chris barked out, laughing scornfully. Even Eddie’s friends thought the chicano was delicate. If only they knew what he did to him behind closed doors. The line between life and death as well as the line between punishment and blackouts may be blurred, but he knew that his toy would survive this. “Eddie, get up and act like a man,” he called out, earning a slap across the face.

 

“I said enough. I’m calling the police. You’ve caused enough damage,” Mark growled, disgusted by how flippant the Canadian was being, as if this was a perfectly normal interaction between lovers. He glanced back over his shoulder, concern cascading through him at Lita’s distraught face and the barely noticeable rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. This was his fault. He knew things were bad, but he didn’t do anything because he honestly didn’t think that things would get this worse, not at this rate. There were no signs to clue him in that this would happen, but he still should have known better. Mark shook his guilt off and dragged Chris outside of the locker room, dialing the emergency number on his phone while ignoring the jabs being directed at him.

 

“You wouldn’t understand. Eddie adores me. He would do anything I ask of him, so it’s not like I’m a bad guy. He needs me to keep him in line or he’ll go to the gutter again,” Chris grumbled. He knew people would think that he went mad, but this was the only way he could keep Eddie sober, to make sure his cheri wouldn’t go off the rails again. It wasn’t his fault that the only way the chicano could learn was through violence.

 

Chris scowled when a squad car drove towards them from where they were standing in the parking garage, one of the officers taking him from Mark and guiding him to the back of the car. “You really think he’s going to be okay without me?” he spat at Taker, glaring coldly at the taller man. “He’ll fall apart, just you watch!” He yelled, knowing that Eddie wouldn’t last a day without him. He was about to say some more stuff, but then something sharp and excruciating coursed through his body, realizing that he had been tased right before he lost consciousness.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Chris couldn’t remember much after the cops took him away from the stadium. All he recalled was bloodlust. One moment he was yelling at Eddie and the next he woke up in a jail cell. He blinked, rubbing his eyes and sitting up on the cot as he struggled to regain his memories. It had been happening more often of late; he would be doing okay and then something triggered his temper to where everything went red and he would have no recollection of what he had done. The only clues would be fresh bruises or cuts all over Eddie. Chris groaned, leaning forward in a slouch and propping his elbows on his knees so he could rest his face in his hands.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

 

He never wanted to be this person. He really did love Eddie and he never once wished the chicano to be scared of him. He wasn’t a monster. He was going to therapy to work on his problems just so he could prove to both himself and Eddie that he genuinely cared. That had to mean something. If he really was a monster, he could have easily just played with Eddie and tossed the man aside once he was done, but he didn’t do that. He stayed despite his lover’s uncanny habit of cheating on him and ignoring his progress that he’d been making.

 

Chris snapped out of his monologous thoughts once he heard footsteps and the faint clinking noise of keys jangling along a holster. He lifted his head up, dark bags under his eyes as he focused on what appeared to be a correctional officer gazing upon him with barely constrained contempt. Chris scrambled up to his feet, walking over to the cell door and wrapping his fingers around the cold steel bars. “Sir, do you mind telling me why I’m here?” he asked, hating how he was still lost in a mental fog.

 

“You committed a crime,” Officer Drew grunted, making sure to keep his distance since some prisoners had the nasty tendency of lunging at the staff, whether it was because they were desperate or because they just wanted to take their frustrations out, he wasn’t sure but he had no desire of testing which one was the case. The Canadian had been unconscious for a few days after his colleagues had to tased the man during an outburst at the time of the arrest. Normally, they would let the convict recover in the clinic, but there were no spaces due to a riot that had taken place in the cafeteria and there were prisoners were more life-threatening injuries.

 

“I kind of figured that,” Chris muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but he reigned it back. Since he was obviously in trouble in regards to legal matters, it wouldn’t grant him any favors if he antagonized the staff. He had to play nice. It wasn’t in his nature, but if he could fool Eddie into forgiving so many times, he could fool this man into thinking that this was some sort of misunderstanding. “I think I might have hit my head or something. My memory isn’t all there yet, so I was hoping you could refresh things for me,” he explained, doing his best to look sheepish. It wasn’t a lie, but he had learned from Eddie that acting all remorseful with a victim complex was the best way at getting people to feel sorry for him.

 

Drew squinted his eyes, wondering if he should have the department doctor take a look at the convict after all. A taze shouldn’t result in amnesia. He scratched his forehead under the hat, grumbling inaudibly and guessing it wouldn’t be any trouble bringing Benoit up to speed. “I wasn’t there, but the report stated that you attacked your co-worker, Mr. Guerrero, and nearly beat him to death. He’s at the hospital,” he didn’t elaborate any further, from what he heard about the wounds Eddie suffered made him sick to his stomach. “You’re to be here for seven days, and after that, it is up to Mr. Guerrero if he wishes to press charges against you,” he finished, adjusting his badge and flashing Chris a curdling glance. “Keep acting all innocent, but we both know what you really are,” he sneered before resuming his patrol down the hall.

 

Chris watched the retreating back, his blue eyes wide. He knew he sometimes went a little too far with what he deemed as punishments, but he had good intentions. Eddie needed him, the latino had to be swatted around every now and then. It also provided him a good outlet for letting go of all the built-up tensions he carried in his shoulders. Besides, it wasn’t like he forced his hands onto Eddie -- the man agreed to it. It was a mutual understanding, and yet everyone was getting it all twisted. Chris wasn’t bad. He was more than aware that he could be an asshole, but he wasn’t an evil person. All he was doing was looking out for the well-being of his partner.

 

Chris sat back on the cot, lying down and staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the tears starting to form. He had no idea where he went wrong, but he needed to fix it. He had promised that he wouldn’t put Eddie back in the hospital; he could still see the damage he did that day and he never wanted to repeat that. All of the steps forward he had made in the past several months were being washed away like waves from the ocean erasing his footprints in the sand. He threw his arm over his face to muffle the sobs as he finally broke down.

 

_ ‘Maybe I really am a monster…..’ _

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_ Wednesday, September 29, 2004. _

 

Chris didn’t leave his cell at all, except for the designated meal times and that was only because he had no choice. There was no point in going out since no one came to visit him. He received some mail from Vince saying that he was mandated to go to more intense counseling after he was released, but that was it. He didn’t feel lonely, yet at the same time he missed the hell out of Eddie and he was worried about the latino, never getting any updates on the recovery. As a result of him staying in bed, the week trickled by slowly and forced more unwanted self introspection. He had no desire to go over his mistakes, but his mind didn’t grant him any mercy. By day seven, he was convinced he was going to lose Eddie and the thought scared him. They had been in each other’s lives for so long that the possibility of the man leaving him left him empty.

 

_ ‘You’re being selfish again.’ _

 

Chris groaned and turned over on his other side. For some reason, the dark voice that had been occupying his head disappeared and the other voice, which he presumed to be his conscious, unrelentlessly berate him for his unsavory actions. “So what if I am selfish? I need him and he needs me too,” he muttered, curling up in a ball. He was glad he didn’t have anyone else sharing the cell with him; he probably looked like a crazy person right now.

 

_ ‘But at what cost?’ _

 

That, Chris couldn’t answer. Was it fair for him to want Eddie to stay with him considering how destructive he was and how provocative Eddie can be?

 

He didn’t want to admit it, his soul writhing painfully, but maybe it was for the best if he gave his friend some space. There was also the risk that he would end up pushing Guerrero further away. Hell, maybe that required counseling would let him show his lover that he truly was changing for the better.

 

It was a very dim candle of hope, but he clung onto that. It was all he had.

 

The sound of the door being slid open made Chris jolted up into a half lying half sitting position in which he hoisted himself on his elbows while his legs flailed a bit as he struggled to get upright. He craned his neck and saw that the officer was holding a clear plastic bag where his clothes and belonging were in.

 

“Go ahead and change into these. You’re being released.”

 

“Oh,” Chris mumbled, getting off of the cot and straightening himself before he accepted the bag. He glanced at the contents, taking in a deep breath and summoning the courage. He had to know. “I take it that ….” he trailed off, unable to finish the question due to the dread churning in his stomach.

 

“No charges. However, if you miss the therapy even once, you will be jailed and fined with a harsher sentence. The rest you can ask your boss,” Drew muttered, knowing what the parolee was trying to say. It infuriated him that the victim was letting Chris go scot free after the new details that he found out about. “Though there is one more thing…”

 

Chris had turned around to get changed when the officer spoke up again, throwing Drew a confused frown. “What is --” he cut off as a baton slapped him across the face. He stumbled sideways, nearly losing his balance as he spit blood out and stared at the guard in shock. “W-What?!” he sputtered, caught off guard by the attack. He didn’t get a response, the baton jamming into his stomach and he instinctively lurched forward, gasping and wrapping an arm protectively around his hurting torso. Drew didn’t stop there, hitting him on the small of his back which forced him onto his knees and then the weapon swatted at his head again. It wasn’t hard enough to knock him out, just enough momentum to cause his ears to ring and his vision becoming slightly distorted before readjusting.

 

“Fucking asshole. You better stay away from that fellow. A friend of his told us all what you did. You’re lucky we didn’t throw your psycho ass to the rest of the system,” Drew snapped. A small latino had visited the station a few days ago and explained the situation, requesting that they find a way to convince Chris to stay away from the victim. After all the crap that Drew heard, he was more than happy to oblige. “I hope you get your stupid ass back here so we can teach you what happens to perverted dickwads,” he muttered, hitting the Canadian one more time for good measure. “Now get dressed and go to the checkout desk once you’re ready,” he ordered, stalking off and leaving the now-ex convict alone.

 

Chris didn’t move for a while, the spots where the baton had strike hurt like hell and he was positive that there would be bruises covering his entire body later. He couldn’t complain though, not after all the time he had spent thinking about how he hurt Eddie. In a way, this could be a sort of an atonement. After all, his lover willingly took the punishments, so he could take his own. This would put them on equal grounds.

 

The flicker of hope that lingered in him had grown into a tiny flame after the correctional officer had said there were no charges brought up against him.

 

He might have another chance. He would be a fool not to take advantage of that.

 

A few hours passed after Chris was officially signed out, relieved to leave the musty old cell behind. He didn’t realize how much he took freedom for granted until his arrest and he didn’t have any desire to return especially after Drew’s assault. That was partly why he decided to give Guerrero some space until the smaller man came crawling back to him. That always happened. Eddie would accuse him of some bullshit and take a ‘break,’ but came back with heartfelt apologies every time. Chris had no doubts that the same would occur here.

 

As annoying and bratty Eddie could be, the chicano was at least predictable.

 

Chris pulled into the driveway of his home, blinking when he saw a van parked by his home and a bunch of boxes sitting around outside. He then recognized Rey and Lita carrying more packages out of the house. He climbed out of his truck, the sky darkening like it sensed his mood. He wasn’t angry and while he did assume that Eddie would be moving out for the time being, it still felt like he got stabbed in the chest. “W-What are you guys doing?” he asked awkwardly, trying to break the silence and he winced at how stupid the question was, as if it wasn’t fucking obvious that the two wrestlers were taking Eddie’s belongings.

 

“None of your fucking business!”

 

The furious tone from Rey did make him flinch. Chris had always known that the latino hated his guts shortly after he and Eddie started dating, but he never realized just how vehemently. He stared down at the cement, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans to hide his fidgeting while Rey got scolded. His ears perked when he heard Lita talking to him.

 

“It’s not safe for Eddie to stay with you, so we packed his things. He’ll be with someone else.”

 

Then Rey’s interjection filled with spite and hatred overshadowed Lita’s soft voice, making Chris bow his head and the shame wreathing around him worsening. He wanted to explain that he never meant to go that far, but he was acutely aware that his colleagues won’t believe him. It was easy enough convincing Eddie that he meant well, but these two were a different story entirely. “I wish I had the answer, but the truth is I don’t know. I’m so messed up in the head,” he responded, hoping they would realize he was being straight with them. He knew he had anger problems, it wasn’t like he was trying to deny it.

 

“You stay away from him, you hear me?! You don’t deserve him! You even lay one finger on him and I will fucking kill you!”

 

The rest of the words were followed by Spanish phrases that Chris never heard of before, but the emotions behind them made the meaning quite clear. The way Rey was reacting made him wonder if the man was the one who went to the officers. It wouldn’t surprise him with how close Mysterio was to Eddie, to the point he was dumbfounded that the two chicanos never dated. He almost smiled, remembering how he once thought that his lover was cheating on him with Rey. He was quickly brought back to the present when he saw Rey attempting to lunge at him again from his peripheral vision. He watched Lita escort the livid wrestler to the van before approaching him, quietly telling him to keep his distance from Guerrero. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” he sighed, resigned to the fact that other people were going to keep blaming him for everything.

 

They exchanged a few more words before Lita returned to the van and he was left alone. A lump formed in his throat as the reality of the situation crashed into him. Even if this was temporary, it was the first time in what felt like forever since he had lived by himself.

 

He didn’t like it, but he would put up with it if it meant making things right between him and Eddie once again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Wednesday, October 6, 2004. _

 

 

 

Maybe it was pathetic of him. He certainly felt like shit since he was supposed to be the strong one, but after a week of living on his own, he finally broke. Chris couldn’t stand the solitude. He missed Eddie too much, wishing the latino was here to make him feel better with corny jokes and cuddles. Eddie was a perfect person to cuddle with, dear God. He never thought he would become so dependent on his lover for company, always priding on himself for being self-sufficient and not needing anyone to be happy.

 

He told himself that he was going to give Eddie time and space, that he would wait for his friend to reach out to him first before he tried anything. He wasn’t sure if he had the patience to anymore, the loneliness getting the better of him and slowly destroying him. He was growing more desperate each passing day.

 

Chris finally gave up and reached for his phone charging on the kitchen counter, unplugging the cable and dialing Eddie’s number. The hope remained strong when it started to ring, meaning that Eddie didn’t block him, not yet. His heart leapt to his throat, excitement bubbling up inside him as the line picked up. “Eddie, this you?” he asked breathlessly, leaning against the fridge and resisting the stupid urge to jump in glee.

 

“Si. What do you want?”

 

The shaky voice dulled his enthusiasm, having trust that Eddie hadn’t grown scared of him. “To say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hurt you. I fucked up,” he replied, nervousness seeping into him at the haunting silence from the other end. He always apologized in the past after acknowledging he went too far, so he could understand why Eddie might be skeptical, but he had to get the latino to believe that he truly wasn’t going to revert back to being a douche. “But I swear I’ll get better. You just need to give me more time, cheri,” he added hastily. Once he started going to the group therapy and anger management classes, he was confident that things will improve and Eddie would forgive him.

 

“How about you take your ‘I’m sorry’ and shove it up your ass.”

 

The hiss made Chris recoil. This wasn’t like the man. Eddie almost never got mad with him, other than the few outbursts which he always shut down. Chris wanted to ask if something had happened at the hospital that was causing his friend to act so out of character, but he swallowed the questions down. That could be for another day. This was more important and urgent. “Eddie, please. I really am sorry,” he choked out, beginning to pace around the house. Dread had completely replaced the joy he felt at talking with the chicano. 

 

Chris winced at the scathing sneer he got in turn, seriously starting to panic now. “I just need time, babe. We can take a break, like you wanted. Just a short break and I’ll be good. But don’t leave me, okay? Don’t give up on me -- I never gave up on you,” he rambled, not meaning to guilt trip Eddie, but he was left with no choice. The candle of hope was standing over a gaping black abyss threatening to swallow the flames whole.

 

It appeared that he said the wrong thing because then Eddie started going off on him. He actually had to hold the phone away while his lover was yelling, the tightening knot in his stomach getting worse. This couldn’t be happening. The fight was making him fear that Eddie was about to break up with him. It would kill him. “Please, don’t do this. You’re my only reason to live,” he begged, flinching as that earned another round of shouting and curses. Tears pooled in his eyes and dripped down his pale face as he pulled at his hair, his pacing erratic. “I know I’m a dick. God, I know that, but I’m telling the truth. I really do love you,” he nearly sobbed.

 

Eddie had to believe him and give him another chance. It wasn’t fair that his only soulmate hated his guts after everything he had done for him.

 

“Here’s what I think -- you’re full of shit. Go fuck yourself.”

 

Before Chris could tell Eddie to wait, there was a click and the line went dead.

 

Chris stared at his phone for a lifetime before throwing it at a wall. “Fuck you, whore!” he screamed, his grief warping into anger. He stormed around the house, throwing desk lamps on the floor and overturning furnitures. “I’m going to make your life a living hell and you’re gonna wish you were dead!” he howled, completely snapping off of the deep end as he ravaged his house.

 

He gave up everything for Eddie and all that bastard did is spit it back in his face.

 

Well, two can play at that game and he was going to make sure the bitch regret crossing him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Friday, October 15, 2004. _

 

 

 

The destructive rage had faded away to cold calculative calm by the end of the week.

 

Chris would be amused that Eddie still hadn’t gotten around to blocking his number after their fight, but it did give him ammo. He had periods of relative peace where he was back to his hopeful and understanding self, texting the injured wrestlers pleas to answer him.

 

But then there were the dark days where he gave in to his resentment and sent Eddie warnings. The lack of replies didn't help since he knew the whore was reading them and purposely ignoring him.

 

Chris wasn't naive. He knew that he was spiraling further out of control and that this wasn't healthy in the slightest, but he was beyond the point of caring. If Eddie won’t give him the opportunity to show that he was a different and better person now, then he had to do it by force. It wasn't like he was going to get in trouble. There were no charges or restraining orders filed against him so he wasn't limited to what he could do.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Friday, November 15, 2004 _

 

 

Chris spent the next month planning for what he was going to do, the group therapy he had been going to actually giving him new ideas. He wasn’t going to hurt Eddie by any means. The original intention of tormenting the latino was no longer there. He just wanted Eddie to see that he was making progress. Real progress.

 

Luckily, the counseling sessions were in the mornings and he usually left around 11, giving him the rest of the day to do whatever he wanted. He made sure to do plenty of prepping, some of his coworkers still friends with him even after the company put him on paid leave of six months. That was how he found out that Guerrero was staying with Mark and it didn’t take that much digging to discover where the safehouse was.

 

Chris would normally be pissed, or at least suspicious, but he was honestly impressed. If a big cockslut like Eddie could get with someone like Mark, with the age and all, that was no easy feat. He would have to talk to Calaway to see what he needed to do in order for the chicano to come back. Though he did know Guerrero far more than even the legend like Taker ever could.

 

The place was in a different state so it took him nearly a full day worth of driving to get there. Thank God the therapy wasn’t going to start up again until next Wednesday. Leaving him with plenty of time. The counselor no longer thought he needed to keep coming in every day like he did in the beginning. It made him proud that he came that far for him to need less frequent therapy. 

 

Chris made sure to time his arrival around the same frame as a live show that was being held so that he ensured Eddie would be alone. He didn’t need an outsider like Mark interrupting them. He park several blocks down in case the police were called so that his license plate wouldn’t be connected. It was a quiet suburban neighborhood, a little more high-end than the one he lived in, which made him relax despite the fact he still had to be careful. Chris walked up to the front door, peering in the window and frowning when the house seemed to be empty. He was sure he was at the right address. He decided to check the backyard, walking around and going through an opened gated door. His heart stopped once he spotted Eddie crouched on the ground, messing with some flower garden, the back to him.

 

For the longest time, perhaps an eternity,, Chris didn’t speak or move, staring at the backside. Eddie appeared to have recovered well in his absence, the skinniness replaced with muscles that were slowly returning and a bit more fat. Chris could even see a healthy tan on the exposed arms and legs. His friend looked so unbelievably attractive that it stole his breath away. He couldn’t see the front, but he could tell that the chicano didn’t have the sickly look anymore. Doubt crept into his mind, suddenly not sure if this was a good idea. Maybe Eddie was truly better off without him and he should leave him alone.

 

No.

 

Chris came too far. He wasn’t going to give up.

 

“Hey, cheri. I never knew you had a green thumb,” he spoke up, smiling when Eddie froze. He waited as the younger man slowly stood up and turned to face him, the face drained of color and the eyes wide. “Long time no see, babe. I’ve missed you….”

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal of this chapter wasn't to make anyone feel sorry for Chris. I don't want to romanticize him as some loving person with terrible execution.   
> His character in Blurred Lines is complicated, full of contradictions and twisted turns. He's not fully bad, necessarily, as he doesn't have the innate desire to torture Eddie... but he isn't good either.   
> So if you feel conflicted about Chris, or about his relationship with Eddie, then I did my job well.
> 
> Though my writing is a bit rusty too so maybe this chapter is just confusing, but I did intend for it to be messy and jumbled because that's Chris to me in this story.
> 
>  
> 
> Not sure how many chapters are left. I don't want to assign an arbitrary number since that will just make me procrastinate even more, but it's definitely under 10 chapters left for sure. I'll try to keep the word count around 5,000 minimum just to really flesh out the fic some more since it's collecting dust lately lmao.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated! I love hearing what you guys think of the fic :) Even if you don't have an account on AO3, you can still post a review below! Pretty please *begging eyes* I really adore feedback.
> 
> It is also available on WattPad under "BenerreroAngst" if you have an account on that site.  
> The biggest difference is the format. Blurred Lines is divided into shorter chapters on WattPad - (Example: 47 current chapters on WattPad versus 32 chapters on here). So if you like shorter chapters, with the exception of the more recent ones, they're on WP. :)  
> The only reason that there's a difference in the layout is because WattPad's Blurred Lines was the original design before I went and did a bit of combining and editing chapters to where they are today on AO3. I'm just too lazy to do the same on WattPad. 
> 
>  


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